History Repeats Itself
by Rogue137
Summary: After he flees through the broken mirror, Erik is given a task from Heaven in which he must go forward in time. (Full summary inside)
1. Divine Intervention

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything Phantom of the Opera-ish; play, book, or movie. I only own my OCs, Celia, Kennedy, Kari, Tassy, and others that you don't know from the movie, book, or play.

**Summary: **After the Phantom flees through the broken mirror, he is sent to heaven, and is bestowed a task, in which he will have to be sent to 2005 to save a complete stranger from his fate. In such a task, he is given a guide; the Angel of Music.

**Author's note:** Okay, this is my first Phantom of the Opera fanfic. Yes, I know that most people don't like newbies, especially movie writers, but work with me here! Another pet peeve that I might notice is that most writers start at this point; post-Erik-entering-broken-mirror-passage.

Okay, that might be the only bad things I can think of (grins sheepishly).

_**History Repeats Itself**_

Chapter One

OoOoOoO

"Take him, forget me, forget all of this . . . Leave me alone—forget all you've seen. Go now—don't let them find you!" he spat through gritted teeth, putting his back to her, unable to face her anymore. "Take the boat; swear to me, never to tell the secret you know—of the angel in hell!" In a raging sorrow, he charged out of the water. He heard the splash of Christine's struggle toward her lover to free him. As she did so, he staggered into the curtained room where he had once laid her when she fainted. He couldn't remember what happened much after they left, until he found himself smashing mirrors, until he opened the passageway.

Erik staggered through the black secret halls of his solitary world, his legs barely supporting the horrendous weight of his grief. His face burned as his tears fell down his half-deformed face. He only faintly heard the angry mob splashing into his only home, ready to kill the murderer that had set fire to the famous and legendary _L'Opéra Populaire_. But no one will ever find him ever again. His life meant no more to him anymore.

Erik's soul was slowly draining out of his wretched, hated body.

Christine had been his only savior. She was his goddess, his pure, beautiful angel of music. The only human, dead or alive, that ever kissed him…let alone full on the lips. Christine was the only person that came even close to loving him. But she didn't love him. She could never love him. She loved that son-of-a-wench, _Raoul._

A white-hot iron of hate scorched in his heart for a brief moment at the thought of the name, and then flickered into nothing. It didn't matter anymore. There was nothing he could do about it now. To bring revenge would bring grief to his beloved Christine. He could never do that. Not anymore. Even in his last attempt to capture the rapturous beauty, he could not wish any harm on the handsome young man if it would cause any kind of harm to her. It was like trying to catch the wind. Just as he thought he had successfully seized it, it would cleverly pull away and leave his hands empty.

"_Say you'll share with me  
One love, one lifetime . . .  
Lead me,_

_Save me from my solitude.  
Say you want me_

_With you here, beside you . . .  
Christine . . . that's all I asked of you . . ." _

He sang softly, half-moaning his love for his Christine. Erik hoped that, like Raoul, the music would once and for all entice her into loving him as he poured out his soul to her in the last minutes he saw her. For one moment, when she had kissed him, he thought that he had triumphed. But as he looked in her eyes, the only feeling he saw in them was pity. There was no love in those eyes. There would never be any love in anyone's eyes for anyone like him. Only _pity_.

"_Christine…"_

So many hopes and dreams shattered. Just like the mirrors he had demolished with the small golden candelabra. Despair finally overwhelmed him, and he fell and leaned against the damp, cold wall, just meters from his exit. Trembling hands supported his head as he put is face into them. Even his own hands unconsciously flinched from the frightening feeling of deformed, puffed flesh.

Erik then heard a muffled cry of triumph as someone obviously found the open passageway. Clicks and thumps of both lady's heels and men's heavy boots swiftly winded their way closer and closer toward him. He half-heartedly cursed himself when he remembered that he didn't close any of the endless labyrinths of hidden doors that led to where he sat, exhausted and mask-less. Finally, as faint torch-lights appeared around the corner, he gave up his life to whomsoever take it; Heaven, Hell, or to the ironic fate that would take his spirit and force it to truly become the Phantom of the Opera.

A bright flash of light and a rushing sensation filled his mind, body, and soul. Erik felt like he was blind, but instead of darkness, he only saw light. He unconsciously cringed from the intense whiteness.

_PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, AS YOU SO CONDEMED THYSELF, _a powerful, yet angelic voice rang in his mind. _THOU HATH LIVED WITH DAMNATION FOR ALL THY EARTHLY LIFE. NOW COMES THE TIME FOR THEE TO FULFILL THY DESTINY. THROUGH THY TEACHING, ONE BEING SHALL BE SAVED FROM_ THY _OWN_ _EARTHLY FATE. THOU SHALL BE SENT INTO THE TIME THAT HAS NOT YET PASSED TO THEE. IF THOU SUCCEED IN THY TASK, THEN THOU SHALL LIVE FOR ETERNITY IN HEAVEN. THY SHALL HAVE AN ANGELIC GUIDE TO HELP THEE IN THY TASK. NOW GO!_

With another rush, and a sudden darkness, Erik felt like he was falling through eternity. At last, he felt solid ground underneath his feet. Confused, dizzy, and his head sore for some reason, he sat down and tried to calm his racing heart. All he saw of his surroundings was a shadow of a staircase and a door beside him.

"What just happened?" he asked himself. Had he just been to Heaven? Was that God speaking to him?

_No,_ a light, feminine voice said softly inside his head. _That was the Archangel Michael. He_ is _somewhat demanding. But, if you complete your task here, you will meet the Heavenly Father. _

Erik uttered an exclamation of surprise as a young woman stepped out of the shadows and slowly, gracefully walked toward him. She had sleek black hair that just hit the small of her back, and dark green eyes. Her skin was a light tan color and, to him, it seemed as if she had a faint illumination emitting from within her. She was wearing a white blouse and a pair of strange blue trousers. As she stepped closer, he could see that the stranger was tall, almost as tall as he was if he was standing up. Erik's hand went instinctively to the right side of his face, to hide it. But when his had brushed molded, glazed wood, he realized that, somehow, his mask was in place. He also felt the comforting weight of his jacket and long black cloak around his shoulders. Feeling somewhat relieved, he asked the woman, "Who are you?"

_I am the angel of music and your guide,_ she said in his mind. _You may call me Celia._

"The angel of music?" he whispered, not daring to believe it. "But…it's just a myth."

_Ah, but it is not…and neither am I, _she told him, and the full power of her angelic voice filled his mind with a magical and musical lilt that could not be described. _So I suppose that if we are to start and finish what you have been sent to do, I implore you to grasp that concept. _She was now about two feet in front of him. She kneeled down so her eyes were level to his. It took him a few seconds to say something.

"Why do you not talk aloud?"

_For a couple of reasons, _she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. _One, I'm an angel and therefore cannot talk to humans by their way of speaking. Secondly, to all humans, except for you, I am a deaf woman. Thirdly, I do not speak because the true beauty of music is in the heart. _She touched the middle of her chest. She had an extraordinary talent of having all the expressions of a regular person who did speak. _Not the mouth. You, Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, know this. Now... _She held out a feminine, yet sturdy hand to help him up. _What is it in your mind that is troubling you at the moment?_

"What is my task?" he asked, as he got to his feet, pulling his cloak straight. "What year is it, and where am I?" Celia's eyes glittered with amusement.

_For one so mysterious, you do ask a lot of questions, _she told him, grinning. _But to answer them, we will need to go upstairs. _She took his hand and led him surely up a hidden staircase. As they winded upward after a while, faint whispers of a piano reached them.

"What is this place?" he murmured.

_The_ Christine Opera HouseCelia said, sounding almost apologetic. As expected, Erik flinched as the huge grief sat once again on his heart. _It is named after one of_ _the greatest singers alive. A man named Raoul ordered one in France to be built after the death of his wife, and for it to be named after her. A few years later, the Americans decided to make a duplicate of the_ L'Opéra Christine._ We are in that duplicate right now, the summer of the year 2005. A small community in New York City, to be specific. _

"_2005_!" Erik exclaimed. "That's impossible!"

_No, it's not. Look. . ." _

Just as they stopped at a balcony not unlike the _L'Opéra Populaire,_ Erik saw a scramble of older children, most in their late teens decorating the hauntingly familiar stage. Some adults helped onstage, mostly consulting with an elderly woman that looked like the director. There were also some kids scattered around the audience chairs, tuning instruments, singing, and dancing. They all wore the oddest assortment of clothing. Both the boys and the girls were mostly wearing the same odd blue trousers that Celia wore, and most the boys wore shirts that had bright colors and numbers on them.

_Sport jerseys and jeans. _The thought came so suddenly to his mind, Erik looked imploringly at Celia. She shook her head, showing that she knew his thoughts, but it wasn't her who spoke.

_As you do your task, _Celia said. _You will unconsciously have the knowledge of this future world._

"Not again! Kari, come here!" the old, stingy-looking director demanded. The girl named Kari turned from where she was helping tape some obscure words to the stage. She was a beautiful child with a fair complexion and a thick ponytail of long, dark, curled hair. She wore a white, long-sleeved shirt with a red flame design and tight dark blue jeans. She had a calm and innocent aura about her. With a wrench to his heart, Erik was reminded painfully of Christine.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Go find Kennedy. He has run off again!"

An expression of pity crossed the girl's face, but quickly disappeared. She then went in search of this Kennedy person.

"My goodness, with this whole audition, I need all the help I can get!" the director said exasperatedly. "Where _is_ that boy? The audition is starting in fifteen minutes!"

She then started to mutter to herself and scold a couple teens that just happened to drop a very large sandbag from the rafters above the stage as a joke.

"I don't know why Mrs. Harrison is making us work on a _Saturday,_" a light- haired boy muttered to a girl from below as they joined the cluster of others around the fallen bag.

"Whatever," the girl said. "Might as well get it over with."

_Brian and Tacita, or Tassy, as most people call her, _Celia told Erik mildly.

Tassy had a commonly pale skin tone, and dark, ashy-brunette hair that was cropped crudely to her shoulder blades. She was sturdily built, with broad, almost masculine, shoulders and was a little on the curvy side. She wore a tight black shirt with a strange, green "A" symbol on it and baggy black pants. Her dull, hazel eyes had been thickly bordered by some black kohl and she had spiky green and black earrings. On her wrist was a black bracelet with short metal studs protruding out of it. She had a strange air of jealousy and bitterness about her. Erik could sympathize with her.

"Well, at least we have nothing better to do, don't we?" Brian told her sardonically. Tassy rolled her eyes.

_Come, _Celia said, taking Erik's arm. He blindly followed her out of the balcony and into a secret passageway. In fact, the passageway was almost exactly like the _L'Opéra Populaire. _

_They did quite a good job duplicating it, didn't they?_ Erik said more to Celia then to just himself.

_The contractors went through a lot to get the exact blueprints of the _L'Opéra Populaire. _Raoul wanted Christine's opera house to be exactly like it. However they couldn't make it as big here in America, so now this opera house is only a fourth of the original's glory_, Celia replied. _It is used mostly for the annual play each summer…Here we are. Erik, stay out here. _They stood in front of a door. Erik could tell that it was a hidden one because of the way it was hinged.

Celia then did a very strange thing; she covered both her ears with her hands. After about a second or two, she removed them and revealed a pair of flesh colored devices that wrapped around her ears.

_Hearing aids, _Erik's conscious registered immediately.

_Stay out here. I'll be right back, _she told him. She then opened the door and stepped inside the room. Erik pressed close to the door to listen to the conversation on the other side.

"Celia!" a young man's voice exclaimed. The boy's voice had a soft, richly melodic, baritone sound…and it was oddly familiar. "I didn't hear you coming." There was a pause.

"She is?" this time his voice sounded stressed, hurried. "Celia, I can't…" Another pause. The boy sighed. "Alright, I'll go. But if they start…well…you know; then I'm out." An even longer pause.

"Thanks, Celia. I'll try."

A few seconds later, Celia quietly opened the door and closed it behind her.

_Who was that boy?_ _Do you also speak to him with your mind? _Erik asked her. Celia shook her head.

_No, I used sign language, _she told him. Again Erik understood what she said. It was truly the oddest feeling in the world, knowing something, but then…not. _And that boy is Kennedy. He just needed some encouragement. _

_Now, _her voice sounded businesslike. _You must go, and then I'll be off. _

"Go where?" he asked.

_This Opera house, even though it is now being used as a community theatre, like I said, is entirely based on the _L'Opéra Populaire she told him seriously. _You know your way. I will meet you soon. We have a couple things to discuss. _She then swiftly disappeared into the shadows.

As he looked about his surroundings, he recognized a familiar hidden doorway that he knew led to the most discreet escape to the outside. As he opened it and started down the dark passageway, he found that the corridor was drastically shortened. Instead of the usual five minutes of endless shadow, he found the familiar window in less then a minute. The sun was frighteningly small compared to the freakishly huge steel buildings that half-covered it. He guessed that is was close to noon. Chilled by the sight of this eerie future world, Erik quickly ran down the rest of the steps to the door that led outside. As he did, he silently descended another set of narrow steps down to what he remembered of the waterway that led to his hidden lair. But, instead of the sound of the steady flow of the river below, it was silent. Not even a comforting drop of water to disturb the silence. Only a river of stone stretched headed of him. But his intuition pulled him to keep walking, heading to only a faint of idea of what lay ahead.

As his boots thunked on the cold, hard rock beneath his feet, and as the shadowy, warm light from torches wrapped around him, comforting him, his heart slowed to an easier pace. However, it still ached excruciatingly and his stomach was still twisted in a knot. Over and over, as hard as he tried not to think of it, the image of his last moments with Christine played in his mind like a film.

As he was about to cry out in his frustration, he turned a corner to a wooden door. Slowly opening it, the doorway revealed a chamber. _His_ chamber…his home. And to his complete surprise, everything was in place; the piano, the curtains, the candles, even the mirrors…everything. It was as if he had come back to his home just as he left it only days before…or was it now over a hundred years ago?

As he slowly walked around, inspecting all his belongings, his mind was bewildered by this show of extraordinary magic. No…it can't be magic. He has seen magic. Magic was slight of hand; an illusion. Now this…this could not be an illusion. How could this future world be explained? Perhaps he was going crazy. Yes. That must be the only solution. In his grief, he had completely lost his mind.

_Oh, come now. Is that the best you got?_ Celia's mystical voice rang in his mind. She sounded amused, but then again, annoyed. _Personally, I think that's an insult to be called an illusion of an insane person. _

Erik just stared at her, his mind blank of any reply. She walked up to face him. He was right; she was just about as tall as him. Their eyes were just about level as she stopped just short of him.

_We need to talk, _she said in a serious tone. A little awed by this bold behavior by a woman, Erik followed her to the swan-bed room. Two armchairs were facing each other, set very close. Celia sat down in one and motioned him to sit. She gazed at him intently in the soft candlelight as he did so, hands folded gracefully in her lap. It made her look as mysterious as Erik appeared to be most of the time.

"You never answered my question to what my task is here," Erik pointed out.

_I was saving it for after you've had a taste of your surroundings, _Celia said calmly. _But even now I can't tell you the entirety of it._

"So what is my task?" he replied, sounding a little impatient.

_Michael told you that "through your teaching, one being shall be saved from your fate." _

"What fate?"

_The one you experienced before you were told of your task and was sent here. _He stared at her, still not comprehending.

_The fate of your love-life. _

Christine's tear-streaked face plastered itself to his mind's eye.

"How will my teaching help? You do mean music, right?"

Celia nodded.

_Yes, and tomorrow you shall meet your students._

"'Students'? I thought that angel said that only one being will be saved from my fate," Erik said.

_He's right. You'll understand in time. And after we're done speaking, we'll go down to see the audition. Now, _Celia looked very stern. _About you impersonating me…_She raised an eyebrow. He hesitated for a few seconds, but he kept eye contact.

"It's complicated…" Erik muttered. He felt awful, with him feeling so intimidated by this woman…

_In case you still haven't realized, _Celia told him, sitting in a way that her posture and her voice suggested, not anger, but authority. I _am an angel. _I_ am no mere mortal woman. But, if you insist, I will become less menacing. _

_However, _she continued, her voice and face still solemn. _Let me get something straight; you are _not_ the angel of music. _Erik, again, felt guilty, and he cast his gaze downward.

_And neither…_He felt a warm hand on his, and looked up. He saw that Celia's eyes had grown soft, and her musical voice, which had escaped her when it was stern, returned. _…are you an angel in Hell. Believe me, I've heard of Hell from a _very_ reliable source. What happened to you is NOTHING compared to it. Do you understand? _

Yes," he murmured.

_Good, _she said. She lifted her hand and lightly touched his non-deformed cheek. Erik instinctively flinched away. She then took hold of his chin and gently, but firmly raised his face so when he looked into her eyes, he saw an unspeakably soothing compassion. There was also something else hidden in those deep emerald eyes; something ancient and beyond human comprehension. _You are not alone._

OoOoOoO

Author's Closing Note: (sniffs) Yes, so very touching, I know. It'll get even more dramatic afterwards, too. Haha. (evil grin)

Please, review, but only constructive criticism, if need be.


	2. And The Angels Sing

**Author's Note:** (runs around ecstatically) Reviews! I got reviews! Hallelujah! Lol

**Reviewers:**

**Super-nitrous-Supra** Thanks for being the first to review! I hope you don't think I copied off of your story, because I had never read it before you reviewed. I really like it!

**EmailyGirl: **Thank you. I really like the idea of your ff, too.

On with the story!

_**History Repeats Itself**_

Chapter 2

OoOoOoO

"So, Johnson decided to show his ugly mug once more," Derrick said viciously to his friends as the boy stalked bitterly past them, his head cast downward, and hands in his jean pockets. "How much do you wanna bet that _you'll_ be picked as the Phantom? You _are_ trying out for the part, aren't you?" he sneered.

"Shut up Derrick," he muttered angrily through gritted teeth, walking faster. He habitually pushed his fairly long, dark hair forward so that it covered at least a part of the right side of his face. Burning with embarrassment and hate, he went to go find Mrs. Harrison to see what she needed for him to do.

"There you are Kennedy!" she exclaimed when she saw him. "Kari has been looked all over the Opera House for you! Will you stop running off? We have a lot to do and we don't have time for your foolishness. Now go help Tassy and Brian and Kari and the others with that sandbag. They need someone who can tie that rope tight enough."

"Yes m'am," he said, quickly walking toward the small cluster of teens arguing about how to keep the bag up in the rafters above the stage.

"All I'm saying is that we can't get it up there with a regular rope," Tassy said exasperatedly. "It'll just…Ken!" Her face held an expression of relief. "Thank God you're here! Can you tie this rope around the bag? That's all we need, then you can go."

"Sure," he said, taking the rope and tying it swiftly and securely around the bag as three boys struggled to hold it up. Pulling the last bit tightly, he stepped back to let a few others standing up in the rafters to lift it up.

"Right on, Ken," Kari said admiringly. She grinned at him. Kennedy's heart skipped as he returned a shyer version of Kari's smile. What he didn't see was Tassy sourly glancing at him, then stalking off, muttering something about warming up before the audition.

"Alright, everyone come to the front row of chairs and sit down!" Mrs. Harrison said in an abnormally loud voice about ten minutes later. She waited impatiently as all the teens and some younger kids filed off the stage. Ken stood in the second row, at the farthest seat, standing stiffly with his arms crossed.

"I want to first thank the parents and to the stagehands who volunteered to help with this performance," she said, nodding to a large clump of kids and adults dressed in very casual work clothing on the stage. "And I thank you for coming to the audition for the Phantom of the Opera. Now, here is how it goes; I'll call those who are auditioning for the extras part first. You will be judged by Mr. Hooper, Miss Smith, and I." She motioned obscurely to the two other adults standing on either side of her. "You will first sing your selected solo, and then act out the script he gives you. Will all those auditioningto be _extras with singing parts_ please approach the stage?"

OoOoOoO

"_The Phantom of the Opera!_" Erik hissed to Celia. "What kind of cruel joke is this?"

The two of them were sitting in the balcony, Box 5 to be exact, that there attended a few hours before, watching the audition.

_A man named Gaston LeRoux wrote a book called Phantom of the Opera, based on the story Raoul told him many years ago, _Celia explained calmly. _Now it has been reproduced into musicals and other books, and just last December into a movie. They actually did a very good job in reproducing your story. It's a classic_.

Erik pushed away the odd knowledge of movies angrily and muttered, "So much for never telling the secret they know of the angel in Hell."

_Forget it, _Celia scolded him._ And didn't I tell you you are _not_ an angel? Just watch the audition. _

The next parts of the audition were for dancers and the orchestra. This took another hour and a half.

"Thank you, you can sit down now," Mrs. Harrison said after the last dancer performed. "Alright, now girls may go onstage. You will first sing your selected solo, and then act out the script I give you. Will all those auditioning for_ just the main girls' _parts please go onstage?"

About fifteen girls in their late teens stood up, including Kari and Tassy. Some of the more popular girls rolled their eyes at Tassy, knowing that she didn't have a chance to play the beautiful, innocent, romantic Christine. Tassy just walked ahead determinedly behind Kari.

"Alright you girls, get in an alphabetical line. When you come up, say your name and what you will be singing clearly," Mrs. Harrison said crisply. She got settled into the chair with her clipboard, and motioned for the first girl to come and sing.

The first ten girls could act very well, but they couldn't sing, and vise-versa. Erik could see Mrs. Harrison's face growing harder and harder with frustration as a few more blatantly imperfect girls came and auditioned.

"Next," she said after theeleventh girl sat down. Kari walked out onto the middle of the stage, taking the portable microphone from the previous girl. Erik leaned forward eagerly in his seat. He knew that she would be perfect for the part of Christine.

"Kari Metherland, singing…ah…" Kari stopped, looking as if she had something in her throat. She coughed, and then started again, this time more surely. "Singing 'Fallen' by Sarah McLachlan."

"Start the CD, Michel!" Mrs. Harrison called. A couple seconds later, music started up. Kari's face suddenly turned pale. As she also struggled to regain her composure, she started singing.

"_Heaven bent to take my hand  
And lead me through the fire  
Be the long awaited answer  
To a long and painful fight _

Truth be told I've tried my best  
But somewhere along the way  
I got caught up in all there was to offer  
And the cost was so much more than I could bear…"

Her voice was pretty, but she sang a third below the right chord for Christine's part. Erik watched the young girl intently, willing for her to sing higher, like his beloved Christine. But it was useless. He knew that her range defiantly defined her as an alto, or at best a mid-soprano.

However, her acting was very good, and it brought Erik's hopes up that she would be cast as Christine.

"Thank you, Kari," Mrs. Harrison said, her expression calm and accepting. "Next." The two more girls auditioned until it was Tassy's turn.

Tassy strode confidently, almost defiantly to the center of the stage.

"Tacita Williams. I'll be singing 'Surrender' by BarlowGirl," she said into the microphone in a strong voice that matched her stance. Mrs. Harrison nodded for her to start. The music started up in a soft piano/violin accompaniment.

"_My hands hold safely to my dreams  
clutching tightly; not one has fallen  
so many years I've shaped each one  
reflecting my heart, showing who I am  
Now You're asking me to show  
What I'm holding, oh, so tightly  
Can't open my hand, can't let go  
Why does it matter?  
Why should I show You?  
Why can't You let me go?  
_

_Surrender, Surrender You whisper gently  
You say I will be free  
I know but can't You see?  
My dream are me, My dreams are me."_

Erik was shocked by Tassy's strong soprano voice, and that yet it was also comfortable as it dipped down into lower notes. She also had a fairly acceptable stage presence and emotion in her voice. But there was a sort of rawness in her voice. He recognized it as the same roughness Christine had before he had shaped her voice into the angelic instrument that he had imagined for her.

_"You say You have a plan for me  
And that You want the best for my life  
Told me the world has yet to see  
What You can do with one  
That's committed to Your call  
I know of course what I should do  
That I can't hold these dreams forever  
But if I give them now to You  
Will You take them  
Away forever or can I dream again?_

_Surrender, Surrender You whisper gently  
You say I will be free  
I know but can't You see?  
My dream are me, my dreams are me_

_Surrender, Surrender You whisper gently  
You say I will be free  
I know but can't You see?  
My dream are me, my dreams are me_

_Surrender…"_

As the song ended, Mrs. Harrison nodded at her; her face exhibiting cool approval. There was some scattered clapping, but many of the kids had their eyebrows raised in surprise and muttered among themselves.

"Thank you, Tassy," Mrs. Harrison said. "Now, let's see your acting…"

Tassy was then handed a short script by one of the stagehands.

"You have a minute to look it over. You'll still have it when you act, but try not to keep your eyes on it the whole time."

Tassy's acting wasn't as good as her singing, but it was good enough. After the last few girls, the director stood up to face the restless crowd.

"Alright, now it's time to audition for the main boy parts. Your audition will be the same as the girls' and the extras'; you will sing, and then act. Go ahead." She motioned then to go onstage. Fewer boys, only ten, lined up at the side to wait for their turn. Ken, of course, was a little out of the way in line and because he was looking at his feet his hair fell mostly in front of his face.

The first five boys were mostly all not very good or mediocre singers and pretty good actors. Next was Ken. He strode hesitantly onto the stage. He still had his head down.

"Kennedy Johnson, singing 'The Music of the Night' from the movie Phantom of the Opera," he said softly into the microphone, one hand in his jean pocket.

"Louder, please, Kennedy!" Mrs. Harrison said. "And lift your head and straighten up. You need to look at the audience."

Kennedy sighed, but raised his head slowly. Erik exclaimed a curse in surprise.

The right side of Kennedy's face was encased in a clear, plastic mask. His face was deformed, almost exactly like Erik's; red, puffy, and melted- looking. The only difference was that the infliction only just reached his hairline, so there wasn't a large patch of missing hair. His dark hair was not so long that it reached his shoulders, but it did fall a third of a way down his face, much like Erik's when it wasn't slicked back. Most of the people stared at him in pity and murmured blended comments to each other.

"My name is Kennedy Johnson, and I'll be singing 'The Music of the Night' from the movie Phantom of the Opera," he said in an almost sardonic tone. He had a stony expression of his face until he started to sing.

"_Night-time sharpens,  
heightens each sensation  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses ..."_

Erik was amazed of how similar this Kennedy portrayed himself. He now knew why herecognized the voice he heard behind the hidden door...it soundedalmost exactly like his.He looked inquiringly at Celia, but she stayed silent. As he watched, he noticed another likeness he saw was the same untutored rawness that Tassy had. There was also had a strange, untamed fire in his tone. _  
_

"_Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor  
Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender  
Turn your face away  
from the garish light of day,  
turn your thoughts away  
from cold, unfeeling light -  
and listen to the music of the night ... _

Close your eyes and surrender to your  
darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts of the life  
you knew before!  
Close your eyes,  
let your spirit start to soar!  
And you'll live  
as you've never lived before ...

Softly, deftly,  
music shall surround you ...  
Feel it, hear it,  
closing in around you ...  
Open up your mind,  
let your fantasies unwind,  
in this darkness which  
you know you cannot fight -  
the darkness of the music of the night ...

Let your mind start a journey  
through a strange new world!  
Leave all thoughts  
of the world you knew before!  
Let your soul take you where you  
long to be!  
Only then can you belong to me ...

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication!  
Touch me, trust me savor each sensation!  
Let the dream begin,  
let your darker side give in  
to the power of the music that I write -  
the power of the music of the night ...

_You alone can make my song take flight_

_Help make the music of the night…" _

As Ken finished the last note, he glanced at the boys, particularly Derrick, as if daring them to say something smart. They didn't say anything.

"Very good, Kennedy," Mrs. Harrison told him, her expression indicative of both approval and uncertainty.

His acting was even more impressive. His script, like the rest of the boys', was of the Phantom of the Opera. Erik was tentative of what to make of it as he felt like he was watching himself move across the stage. Kennedy had all the seductiveness, power, and spitefulness that Erik had in himself…but there was something different about him.

_He still has hope, _Celia told him softly. _He has his whole life ahead of him, and even though he has been through so much already, there is something in his mind that still hangs onto faith that there will be better days. _She stood up. _We must go down before your students leave._ She then swiftly walked out of the balcony. Erik followed her closely until they reached the secret doorway at the very bottom of the staircase leading to the balcony, where she paused.

_In fact, let me get them. Go down to your quarters. I'll bring them to you in the morning._ Before he could say anything, Celia exited into the large theater. Erik stopped at the door as Celia headed toward the crowd of teens were Mrs. Harrison had just finished saying that she would post the list of those who got the parts the next day.

"The schedules will also be posted outside the door for those who got parts," she told them. "Good bye, everyone."

As the teens pushed toward the exit, Erik opened the hidden door and slowly made his way down to the stone passageway and into his chamber. When he arrived, he paced back and forth, wondering what he was to do with two teenagers of the future. He was sure now that one of them would be Kennedy, the one that could have been him when he was that age. Had he gone forward or back in time?

The other student will be either Kari or that Tacita girl. Erik hoped desperately that it would be Kari. He could certainly teach her to fix her voice. The pamphlet Celia gave him about the play said that the actual performance would be in two months, just before the school term started; more then enough time to teach the beautiful child to reach the high D.

And what of their tutoring? Should he teach them each at the same time? No, it would be better to have them separate for most lessons. They should both have the day off Sundays…he doesn't know when rehearsals are…

To stop thinking about all of this, he sat down at his piano and started playing the first song that came to mind. He soon got frustrated as the sour notes branded in his mind, for his troubled thoughts clouded his concentration. So he walked the curtained room where he and Celia had spoken that morning and sat heavily down on one of the armchairs and drifted into a deep reverie until he finally fell to the pull of dreams of his Christine.

OoOoOoO

**Author's Closing Note: **Okay, to tell you the truth, I'm not sure who to be cast as Christine; Tassy or Kari. It may take a while to post the next chapter because of this setback, so be patient. Sorry for the inconvenience!

**Please review, but, like I said before; constructive criticism, if necessary.**


	3. First Encounter

**Author's Note: **Only one review. (glares at readers)

**Reviewers:**

**Courtney: **"Finish the story?" I'm only on the fourth chapter for Heaven's sake! Lol. See you when I sleep over tonight.

**Disclaimer: **Read the first chapter. I'm too lazy to put it up again (grins)

_**History Repeats Itself**_

Chapter 3

OoOoOoO

The doorbell rang through the house. Kennedy flinched, unwilling to interact with anyone at the moment. But he quickly he put the cap on the bottle of gel, put his therapeutic mask back on, and walked toward the door. He looked through the peephole in the whitewashed door, and sighed in relief. It was just Celia, a close adult friend of his that he knew from the community theater. He opened the door.

"Hi Celia," he said. "Sorry it took so long. I was…" He gestured obscurely toward his mask. "You know, applying medicine."

Celia was standing on the stoop of Ken's apartment that he shared with his mother. She looked calm and genuinely happy to see him.

_That's alright Ken, _Celia signed to him. _It wasn't that long._

Even though he knew a lot of sign language, Ken tended to slip into speech when he was around Celia. He knew that the only reason she could understand him when he spoke is she knew how to lip read extremely well. But sometimes her replies, along with her expressions, made him think for a split second that she could hear him.

_I need to take you and Tassy Williams to your acting and singing teacher, _she signed.

"What?"

_You need training for the play._

"You mean I got the Phantom spot?" he asked, signing at the same time. A rare, genuine smile spread across his disfigured face.

_Yes, _she told him. _And Tassy got the part of Meg Giry._

"She _was _pretty good at the singing part, wasn't she?" Ken said, though he was secretly joyful that Kari got the part. From what he saw of the movie, Kari looked almost exactly like Christine. Not to say that Tassy was ugly or anything, but she just didn't have that kind of beauty. She was a little too curvy and solid-built to portray a feminine, willowy character like Christine.

_Come with me. We need to pick up Tassy. Is your mother at home?_ Celia signed.

"No, but I'll leave a note," Ken said, signing absent-mindedly, half turning to go back inside. "How long will we be there?"

_About an hour or so, _Celia told him. _You're just going to get acquainted with him._

"Alright. I'll be right back," he said, going inside as Celia waited patiently. He quickly scribbled on a sheet of printing paper and hung it on the fridge.

Since Tassy's small house was only a few blocks from Kennedy's apartment complex they walked. Ken knocked on the door of the small brick house sandwiched between many other brick houses, with only a few feet to separate them. There was a lot of yelling, obviously belonging to the mouths of a fair amount of children.

"I got it!" one voice bellowed above the rest. Ken recognized it as Tassy's demanding tone. Moment's later, the door opened to reveal a slightly disheveled Tassy trying to push away two curious toddlers. When she spotted the two on the steps, she quickly skirted out the door and closed it behind her. She was wearing another punkish tee, this time a grayish-green Green Day tank that revealed a tattoo of a black sun symbol on her right arm, and a ratty pair of dark blue jeans. She still wore the heavy eyeliner and black bracelet. She also wore a matching chocker. She took out the tie of her slightly askew ponytail and put it back up swiftly.

"Sorry about that," she apologized breathlessly, looking annoyed. "Having five other kids sharing a minus-thousand-square-foot house with you is a nightmare. So…" She put her hands on her hips. "What can I do for you?"

"Um, Celia came to my house to tell me that I got the part of the Phantom, and you got the part of Meg Giry," Ken told her in his soft, smooth voice, signing so he could be sure Celia knew what they're were talking about. "We're going to meet our acting and singing coach today, I guess."

"Meg Giry?" Tassy's hands slipped from her hips and started to bite the middle joint of her middle finger a sign to those that knew her well that she was extremely disappointed. "Well, that _is_ a pretty good part right?" Her voice hinted of self-mocking. "So…who got the part of Christine?" she asked slowly, trying to sound casual. But her tone indicated that she knew the answer.

_Kari Metherland._

"Kari did."

Tassy's arms crossed.

"Well, she does have a striking resemblance to Christine, doesn't she?" Tassy said, struggling to keep her voice casual.

Ken was about to say that he thought the same thing, but kept the comment to himself, seeing that Tassy was very disappointed that she didn't get the part she wanted. Celia cut in anyway.

_Can you come now, or are you too busy?_ Celia signed to Tassy. Since Tassy didn't know a lot of sign language she looked to Ken for interpretation.

"She asked if you could come with us now or are you too busy?" Ken told her.

"Uh…sure, Caroline can take care of the mob…" she turned toward the house. "I'M GOING OUT EVERYONE!" she yelled in an extremely loud voice. "I'LL BE BACK IN…" She turned to Kennedy. "About how long?"

"An hour at most," he said, glancing at Celia.

"Okay. I'LL BE BACK IN ABOUT AN HOUR! CAROLINE IS IN CHARGE!" Tassy then turned to descend the steps toward them. "Let's go before Caroline comes out and tries to stop me from going."

The three of them walked leisurely to the community theatre, or the Christine Opera House, as most visitors of the district and maps would call it. Celia quickly led them up the stairs to the front door, where there were some fliers in a plastic box hanging beside it. Above the box was a taped up piece of paper with the names of those who got a part in the musical; Kari as Christine and Kennedy as Erik were at the bottom. Mrs. Harrison obviously found joy in seeing unbearable anticipation. When Ken saw that Derrick was Raoul, however, he bitterly thought that it fit. Derrick was the definition of pretty boy, and he too had a crush of Kari. _Mrs. Harrison had a twisted sense of humor…_he thought as Celia handed a slip of paper from the box each to Tassy and Ken, and took one for herself.

Ken quickly skimmed over the piece of paper. It was a schedule of rehearsal times;

**Phantom of the Opera Rehearsal Dates**

Monday, June 13th

First Rehearsal 2-4 pm

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays

Group Rehearsal 2-5 pm

Mondays and Fridays

Stage Hands 5-7

(dinner included)

August 11th and 12th

Dress Rehearsals 2-7 pm

(dinner included)

**August 13th**

**Arrive at 4 pm; performance at 7 pm**

For some reason, however, after Ken slipped the rehearsal dates into her pocket, Celia led them to the very back of the large building, where other buildings came to meet at a narrow alley. There, at the very end of the alley, was a narrow staircase that looked like it headed underground. Tassy and Ken stopped, and Tassy backed off.

"Where are we going?" Tassy asked Celia. What she really wanted to say was; What were they doing, going into the sewers? What did that have to do with meeting their tutor? What was he, or she, some sort of dark, Wiccan recluse?

Celia's face looked calm as she signed for a few seconds as Ken interpreted.

"She says…that our tutor desires his privacy," he said, sounding as nervous and uncertain of their "tutor" as Tassy was. "And that he may seem a little harsh, but he holds the both of us in high regard." He paused. "I guess we should go down. Are you coming?" Tassy was silent for a minute.

"Alright, I'll go down," Tassy said, still doubtful. _But only because I trust your judgment and that you trust Celia_, she thought to herself. So the two teens followed Celia down the small, steep steps, with only the light of the late morning sun to illuminate the bottom. Then they walked through the long, shadowy, stone hallways, their only light source coming from the torches that hung on the walls. Tassy and Ken were both unnerved by the dungeon-like appearance of the long corridors.

When they finally reached a dark wooden door, they heard a haunting melody coming from the room inside; a deep, dark voice singing with an accompaniment of some sort of piano organ. Celia opened the door, revealing a large chamber. Tassy caught her breath in recognition and amazement. She had seen the movie Phantom of the Opera, and this beautifully mysterious room was hauntingly similar of the underground lair in the film.

As the stranger, sitting at a piano dressed in a long, old-fashioned black cape and black pants, sang and played passionately, pouring all his emotion into the music, he did not notice the three of them entering silently into the room. Tassy and Ken both were spellbound as they listened and watched him mutely as his hands drifted along the organ, the music pouring like magic from underneath nimble fingers. As he ended in a thrilling crescendo, Celia motioned for the other two to come closer. It took a second for the two of them to shake off the stupor that this enchanting music cast upon them.

OoOoOoO

_Very good, Erik, _Celia told him, her voice hinting of sarcasm. Erik kept his hands down at the fermata of the end of a song he heard of as a child as he listened to her._ You've entranced your students with you beautiful music once more. Turn around slowly. We don't want to frighten them too much._

Erik obeyed, and with his heart racing with excitement and fear of how they would react, he ended the song and turned around on his seat. He forced an expression of cold, mild curiosity on his face as he did so.

He was right that Kennedy was one of his students. The other was not so much as surprise as disappointment; Tacita Williams. He had hoped it would be Kari. But even so, her reaction to Erik was almost theatric.

"Who is the freak dressed up in a Phantom of the Opera costume? I'm sorry, but that's just creepy!" The mention of 'freak' touched a nerve as it did every time Erik was insulted in that form.

_Steady,_ Celia warned him.

Celia replied to Tassy's question with some weird motions, her hands moving rapidly around her face and midsection, but talked to Erik as she did so.

_I'm doing sign language, _she told him, her eyes staying on Tassy the whole time, however._ Ken will interpret for Tassy. Listen to him._

"She says that it is important for us to keep an open mind because he will be our tutor," Ken said in his smooth, low voice, his eyes moving from Celia's hands to Erik's face. He looked tentative of what to make of the mysterious-looking stranger in this underground cavern, and for a second, he raised his hand and brushed his own plastic mask on his face.

"Okay, so what is this guy's name?" Tassy asked bluntly.

Erik stood up, conscious of his long cape slithering intriguingly behind him off the seat.

"My name is of no importance of the moment," he said in a sensuous, aristocratic voice. "Welcome to my…would I dare to call it a home? More like a prison…" He laughed softly, looking coldly at his surroundings. Tassy and Ken looked hesitant and somewhat alarmed.

"Jesus!" Tassy exclaimed. Celia noticeably flinched at the comment. "This is just too disturbing; a guy that looks like the Phantom, acts like the Phantom, sings like the Phantom, and has the same name as the Phantom? The only question now is...are you an escapee from an insane asylum or something?" She locked eyes with Erik.

_So much for keeping them from getting intimidated, _she said, sounding annoyed. _They think you're an insane hermit now._

_You have your procedures, and I have mine, _Erik replied, a little more sharply then he wanted. Celia clasped her hands together in front of her, a petty gesture to Tassy and Ken, but a warning indication to him. She did say silent, however.

"You, Kennedy, am I right?" Erik asked suddenly, pointing at the nervous young man. He nodded. Erik motioned for him to come closer. The boy hesitated, and then walked just up to the foot of the steps. Erik walked toward him, paused, and then started circling Ken, examining him. He could tell that the teen was uncomfortable with his presence.

"How old are you, boy?" he asked sharply.

"Seventeen," he replied softly. Erik considered that for a moment.

"How did you get your…deformity?" He asked the sensitive question so bluntly that Ken was speechless for a minute.

"I…I was born with it, sir," Ken stuttered, apparently struggling to keep eye contact with Erik's cold eyes. But as he did, Ken saw a sort of empathy fleetingly pass over his cool, demure expression, but it was gone before he could consider it. Erik was silent for a few more seconds.

"Have you had any previous vocal training?" he asked.

"No, sir."

"None at all?"

"No."

Erik sighed. "I suppose you don't either, Miss Williams?" he asked Tassy sharply. She looked startled when he addressed her, but quickly fixed him with a surly stare.

"Actually, I have," she said coolly. "I was in my school choir for two years in junior high."

"And how old are you at the moment?"

"I'm also seventeen."

He walked up to her where she stood with her arms crossed defiantly. He also started to examine her, appalled by her obviously boyish appearance, and the design on her arm that he had seen on exotic men while he traveled in with those accursed gypsies completely damaged any other highlights of her features in his eyes.

"I'm not a show dog, you know," she told him off hotly. Erik glared at her with his stone-like blue eyes.

"And I'm not insane," he said tersely. "Not completely, anyway…" he added in an undertone as he turned away from her and took a few steps back. To have a full view of both his students.

"Now, I'll assume that you, Kennedy, got the part of the Phantom?"

"Yes, sir," he replied. Erik just nodded.

"And you, Tacita, got the part of…?"

"First of all, it's Tassy," she cut in sharply. She hated being called by her whole name. "And I got the part of Meg Giry." Erik's heart leaped in triumph. That meant that Kari certainly got the part of his beloved Christine!

Just then, Celia cut in.

_I think you should try to organize a rehearsal plan now, _she told him.

"As you both know," he said in an authoritative voice. "I will be instructing you how to sing. Moreover, I will teach you how to actually _make_ music. What I saw yesterday was just two young children singing some memorized notes. But…" he took a step closer. "We need to find times for you to come to me to improve even in the slightest." He paused.

_Reach inside your vest. _

_What? _Erik asked.

_Just do it._

He obeyed, and as he did, he felt a slip of paper and pulled it out. It was a list of rehearsal times for _Phantom of the Opera_. He quickly pushed aside the wonder of how it got in his blood-red and black tailored vest and smoothly made up a practice regimen within a few seconds.

"You are to both meet with me on Wednesdays and Saturdays at eight o'clock to ten at night," he told them. "Mademoiselle Williams, you'll see me on Mondays and Fridays from seven at night to whenever we are finished…"

"I can't come on Fridays. I work at Magic Cinemas from seven to midnight."

Erik let out a frustrated sigh.

"Then come on Sundays at the same time," he said, with his teeth gritted. _She's going to be worth her weight in trouble, _he thought. "Monsieur Johnson, you will meet me on Tuesdays and Thursdays at the same times as Mademoiselle Williams. Are we clear?"

The two nodded.

"Then you may leave. Miss Williams, I'll see you tonight." He then turned on his heel and sat once again on at his organ, and started to play the first part of Angel of Music.

_Come, _Celia signed. Ken gently took Tassy's arm and headed her toward the door.

OoOoOoO

"That guy was _really_ weird," Tassy said, her eyes furrowing. The three of them were just entering the outside world, where the hot June sun nearly blinded them. "I mean, is he _Phantom of the Opera_ obsessed or what?" She looked at Celia. Celia replied with a few moments of sign language as Ken translated.

"She says that there have been some situations in his life that draws him to relate to the _Phantom of the Opera_," Ken told her.

"_Relate?_" she said incredulously. "He's frickin' living under the community center in a cavern in an _exact replica_ of the Phantom's lair!"

"I know he's a little out there, Tass," Ken replied. "But he _does_ sing really well."

"Yeah," Tassy admitted. _God, what I would give for him to say that about me…_

When they got in sight of the front of the Opera House, they saw a huge mob of people at the door at the proximity of the list of those in cast. Tassy immediately spotted Kari and her tight little group of friends congratulating her. She gritted her teeth ferociously.

"I'll go home by myself. Bye Ken…Celia." She then quickly walked off, not wanting Kari to come over to her and congratulate her on getting a part in the play, that she had a beautiful singing voice, shoot that dazzling smile at Ken, blah, blah, blah.

So she walked home by herself, softly singing "Georgia on My Mind" by Ray Charles; one of her favorite singers of all time.

"Tacita Grace Williams!" a gum-slurred voice yelled at her as she walked though her front door. A gangly, blond 14-year-old came stomping toward Tassy, her eyes flashing. "Where have you been!"

"I went to the community center, Caroline, so chill," Tassy told her off-handedly.

"Chill? CHILL!" Caroline screeched. "Kimmy just threw up all over the kitchen a few minutes ago! And _you _are going to clean it up!" she finished as she stalked off to the bathroom. The bathroom was the only room in the house that you could be alone in.

"Yep. She's PMSing," Tassy muttered as she entered the kitchen to face the horror that was placed upon her.

OoOoOoO

**Author's Closing Note: **REVIEW, PEOPLE! (ahem) Please?


	4. Beggars Can’t Be Choosers

**Author's Note: YAY! I gots a lot of reviews! (hugs reviewers) And I gots a new computer chair! It's comfortable and SPINNY! (spins on chair) Weeeee! My other chair was hard and it didn't spin. (sets old chair on fire) Anyway, I'm sorry I didn't update sooner. I was grounded off of it 'cause I didn't do my chores. (grins sheepishly)**

**Reviewers: **

**Friend5: (characteristic grin)**

**TerpintineMind: I was thinking of Tassy being La Carlotta, but there were some ideas I wanted for her being Meg to be put into play. **

**Moon Avenger: (growls and grabs Erik) MY ERIK! **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own POTO, no matter how much I try. Andrew still won't take up my offer! (grumbles incoherently) Oh, I also do not own that one song with the really long name. It belongs to Thomas Moore, a dead Irish guy. And the song "A Song of a Panthan Girl." That's by some other dead guy, I think.

_**History Repeats Itself**_

**Chapter 4**

OoOoOoO

Tassy walked alone toward the community center as the sky darkened to a dim twilight. She wore a black jean jacket over her Green Day tank and had her hands in her pockets. She had walked out just after a dinner of breaded chicken strips and rice. Tassy's sister Caroline reluctantly agreed to baby-sit while she was gone if she'd leave the bathroom open for a week.

As she approached the center, however, she felt a little apprehensive of going back down to the gloomy cavern that she was in just a few hours earlier. She was even more apprehensive of facing the strange POTO-obsessed man that lived down there. He was a little too menacing for her taste. And she _hated_ to be intimidated. She prided herself in being able to be the intimidator instead.

But there was another factor that made her even more reluctant to accept this odd man as her tutor. He seemed to have been sincerely pleased when he saw Ken that morning…but she knew when he first looked at her that she was unwanted. And she would bet big money, if she had any, that the one he wanted in her spot was Kari.

Screw her…with her innocent little look and beautiful features. Kari was perfect. And it was sickening.

Tassy stopped as she reached the almost-hidden trapdoor that led deep underground. Did she really want to do this? She could learn Meg's part by herself and during rehearsals. It's not like there was much to learn; mostly just dancing and that one part in "Angel of Music." There was defiantly no need for private tutoring, so why bother? Kari could take her spot. That would make everybody happy.

Tassy reluctantly opened the trapdoor and slipped through, her black combat boots securely finding each step as she descended the stairs. When she finally reached the bottom and started along the long corridor that led to her destination.

She couldn't stop thinking of refusing to be tutored. It would be a good idea, but she couldn't help but hesitate to set her mind to it.

_I would love to learn how to sing as beautifully that man does, _she thought. She knew she disliked him, but she could not deny that his voice was indeed…magical. Angelic, even.

And, as expected, as she approached the wooden door, she could hear the playing of a soft piano accompaniment drifting through, curiously pausing every few seconds.

She rested her hand on the door handle, listening half-heartedly to her common sense as she hesitated, but eventually opening the door. Her tutor sat at the organ with music strewn all around him. He had stopped just as she stepped into the room to scribble something down on one of the papers.

It was an eerie sight, because it was the same scene she had watched on her Phantom of the Opera DVD, just before "Stranger Then You've Dreamt It." As crazy as it seemed, she had a nagging feeling that he may not just be a horrifyingly obsessed nuthouse escapee.

Feeling a little foolish, she cleared her throat loudly to get his attention. He paused with his writing.

"Go and wait for me in the curtained room," he told her, not even looking up. An embarrassing thought came to her mind as she remembered that the curtained room was a bedroom. A shiver ran down her spine disgustedly.

"Uh…no thanks. I'll just wait here," she said, blushing furiously at the thought. She thanked God that he still hadn't turned around.

Apprehensiveness still nagging her stomach, Tassy removed her jacket and put it on the floor beside her as she sat on the stone floor. She then pulled her knees to her chest and listened to the graceful wave of music that spilled from the organ. She closed her eyes and tried to lose herself in it, like the song he had sung that morning. But it just didn't have the spark of that young, compassionate tune that he played. Tassy had heard of it before, an old symphony that she once heard being sung at a choir convention. She knew it had a long name, and that it was an old tune; circa early 1800's.

Her tutor once again paused to write down the music he had just played.

"What was that song that you sang this morning?" Tassy asked. He lifted his pen from his music.

"_Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms_," he told her robotically. "A poem and sonnet by Thomas Moore, an Irish poet." Tassy hesitated, painfully on her behalf, before answering.

"I liked it," she nearly mumbled, cursing herself for not finding another, smarter response. The Erik-look-alike grunted indifferently. Tassy rolled her eyes, mostly at herself.

_Stupid response. Stupid, stupid, _she scolded herself.

"Well, we might as well start your lesson," her teacher said, turning to face her. His mask was still in place, and his cold eyes burned into hers. He beckoned for her to come to him. She obeyed, but refusing to look recessive and timid by keeping a fiery, distrustful eye contact with him. She stood stiffly about three feet away from him beside the piano.

"Do I frighten you, Mademoiselle Williams?" he asked slyly, his grin more curled up in a sneer then anything else, his teeth bared almost wickedly. "I don't bite, you know."

"No. I just don't trust a name-less person," she said smoothly. "Or should I just call you Erik?"

OoOoOoO

Erik's stomach plummeted at the fierce American teen's comment.

_Oh God, how did she know?_

But another look at her face told him that she was just being sarcastic, not accusing. But what did she mean by it?

"And why would you call me that?" he asked, keeping his voice just as smooth and controlled as hers. Tassy's shoulders went up in an indifferent shrug.

"I guess that my first impression of you turns to the Phantom of the Opera," she told him. "Is that alright with you?" Erik hesitated for a minute, but disguised his uncertainty as a calm musing.

"Yes," he said finally, waving it off like a bothersome fly. "You can call me whatever you like." He turned back to his organ. "You will sing the C major scale to warm up."

He and Tassy, though uncomfortable in each other's presence, worked fairly well together. Tassy seemed willing to obey his instructions and take his criticism. Every so often she would get frustrated and, of course, and lash out at him for no reason. Erik just fixed her with a cold stare and icily commanded her to fix her mistake, whatever it was.

Erik noticed that she made a repetitive mistake of pushing her voice to sing the more emotional notes of one of the pieces that he gave her to sing; _The Song of a Panthan Girl_.

"_Alone upon the housetops to the North_

_I turn and watch the lightning in the sky,_

_The glamour of thy footsteps in the North._

_Come back to me, Beloved, or I die!_

_Below my feet the still bazaar is laid,_

_Far, far below the weary camels lie,_

_The camels and the captives of thy raid._

_Come back, Beloved, or I die!_

_My father's wife is old and harsh with years,_

_And drudge of all my father's house am I._

_My bread is sorrow and my drink is tears._

_Come back to me, Beloved, or I die!"_

"No, you must let the notes float, and keep them gentle," Erik told her in a stern tone.

"But the song is about a woman's sadness to a man who's left her!" Tassy protested, tapping the music with the back of her hand. For some reason, a hint of a Brooklyn accent was added to her tone as it got more frustrated. "It isn't supposed to be gentle! She's full of pain and regret. Aren't I supposed to sound like I'm pushing? Like my voice is breaking with sorrow or something?"

"It sounds like you're in labor," he said through gritted teeth. Tassy looked both shocked and enraged at this blunt comment. Erik ignored her anger and asked coolly, "Read the beginning of the piece; right above the time signature." Tassy glanced at it exasperatingly.

"It says _con expressione_," she told him, giving him a weary look.

"Yes. In music, and in Italian, that means 'with expression'," he said. "But look at the dynamics on the first verse. It's _mezzo piano_, and stays that way throughout most of the piece…"

"But…"

Erik raised a finger to silence her.

"Right now I'm trying to teach you how to sing what is written," he said sternly. "Once I see that you have passed the 'See Jane Run' stage, you may be able to interpret a piece on your own."

"'See Jane Run'?" Tassy asked in a flat tone, raising an eyebrow.

"At this stage of your music training, you are still but a small child just beginning to learn how to read." Tassy opened her mouth in a retort, but Erik cut her off.

"I think that's enough for tonight," he said curtly. "It's late already, and you should be getting home. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night."

"'Night," she muttered, grabbing her discarded jacket on the floor beside the door as she left.

_That actually went fairly well, _Celia's voice echoed in his mind.

"That girl is much too stubborn for her own good,"Erik told her, seeing her appear from seemingly out of nowhere from the shadows of a corner.

_Much like yourself, _Celia told him slyly, approaching the organ. She leaned on it casually when she reached it. _You mustn't be too hard on her, though. _

"'Too hard on her'?" Erik scoffed. "I believe that Mademoiselle Williams is too hard on _me_."

OoOoOoO

"Alright everyone," Mrs. Harrison told the crowd of people before her. She held a brown clipboard and had her usual look of sternness on her face. "I know you're all excited to get the rehearsal started, but I need to set a few ground rules first."

A few weary sighs rippled through the assembly.

"Now, don't give me that," the director scolded. "I want this production to run smoothly, not in chaos. Now, all of you must be on time, and the only exception for skipping rehearsals is if you have an excuse from a parent or guardian…"

"I thought we had gotten out of school," Brian muttered to Tassy.

"Well, like they say; Beggars can't be choosers," she muttered back to him.

"Hey, my mom made me come here to be a stage hand," Brian retorted defensively. She wanted me to 'be preoccupied with something constructive instead of being on the streets of downtown and selling drugs' or something like that."

"Well, sucks for you."

"…and now we can start the rehearsal," Mrs. Harrison was saying. "Everyone will be split into groups. Stagehands will be working in the back, with making props and such. Extras will be working with Mr. Hooper…" A short, stocky, balding man raised his hand. "…dancers will be with Mrs. Smith…" A tall, willowy-looking woman raised her hand. "…and these parts will be working with me; Christine, the Phantom, Raoul, Carlotta, Meg Giry, Madame Giry, Andre, Firman, Monsieur Reyer, Piangi, and Passarino. For the first hour and a half, my group will get the stage, and then we'll switch off with the dancers, and then the extras, and then we'll all practice together. We're going to practice the first scene of Hannibal. Everyone got that? Alright, you can split into your groups now."

"Extras follow me! We're going to Practice Room Three!" Mr. Hooper called as a horde of people came swarming up to him. The dancers did the same, following Mrs. Smith to another practice room. After all the extras and dancers left and some stragglers who weren't listening put in their place, Mrs. Harrison ordered the rest of them to assemble on the gigantic stage. She then came up onstage with a stack of binders.

"These are your scripts," she said, handing them out. "They hold the screenwriting of the entire musical. Your parts are highlighted. Right now, everyone's onstage. I'll place you in your spots for Hannibal in a minute. But first," Mrs. Harrison laid her eyes approvingly on Tassy and Ken. "I would like to congratulate Tassy Williams and Kennedy Johnson for being chosen to be privately trained by an actual Phantom of the Opera actor." She clapped, in which a few others joined. Tassy closed her eyes and massaged the top part of the bridge of her nose in annoyance. Ken desperately wished to disappear into the shadows, but all he did was force a weak grin at the attention.

"Alright, let's get on with the rehearsal. Meg Giry and Christine will be standing on the side, just in view of the audience, in their costumes of course, with the other dancers," Mrs. Harrison said, moving toward the far right side of the stage. "Carlotta…" she looked at a tall girl with sharp features named Régine. "…will be in the center as the curtains open. Monsieur Reyer will be in front of her…"

The rehearsal went like this; know beginning places onstage, work out lines directly from script, repeat until it was time for the dancers to practice onstage. Then, after both the extras and the dancers finished their onstage practice, they all practiced as one group, up until the part where Christine shows the new managers that she could take the place of La Carlotta. They did this for the next hour, running it over and over again. It was a fairly good rehearsal, considering that there were over fifty people running around one huge stage.

After rehearsal was over, Mrs. Harrison dismissed the crowd, telling them to review their scripts and dancing and such, and then pulled Tassy aside.

"Tassy, could you please tell Kari that you and she will be working with Mrs. Smith for an hour each rehearsal with the other dancers for this first scene?" she asked. "You may join the dancers for other scenes in more rehearsals then Kari, but for the next few rehearsals, we need her to practice the Hannibal ballet scene."

"Uh, yes m'am," Tassy replied. "I'll do that." She then walked to Brian, who was waiting for her at the door.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"Ballet practice," she replied, shrugging. "Kari and I need to practice for the Hannibal scene." She started to bite the middle joint of her middle finger,

"Still bitter about Kari getting your part?" Brian asked sympathetically. Tassy was silent for a split second.

"You know, Kari was just picked because she looks like Christine!" Tassy suddenly burst out angrily. "I know this may sound conceited, but I _know _I'm a better singer then Miss…Miss _Butterfly_ over there. This only proves one thing…that this world has no more appreciation for real music!" Tassy's chest heaved up and down with fury, her hands clench tightly to her arms as she crossed them. Brian patted her back in fake empathy.

"You can join up with Simon Cowell if you want," he suggested in an innocent voice. "You could start a boycott. You could be called the FARTS; Friends Against Really Terrible Songs…" All the comment got him was a sharp punch in the arm. "I was kidding!" he protested, rubbing his arm.

OoOoOoO

**Author's Closing Note:** Phew! I'm done with it! Review please! Or Erik gets it! (laughs evilly at Erik, who is tied to a chair and looked fairly unhappy)


	5. Beauty And Youth Are Thine Own

**Author's Note: This chapter is coming to you late because we had a bunch of HUGE thunderstorms that decapitated our internet connection, and I had huge writer's block. Don't worry; I have all of my chapters' ideas written down on little white, lined, index cards, so I don't have writer's block anymore! And I found a typo in my story. Brian was supposed to stay after rehearsal for stage hand practice. My bad. **

**Reviewers:**

**Haley Macrae: **Oh yeah? (pulls out machine gun, replica of the one in Scarface and stands in front of tied-up Erik) Say 'ello to mah leeelte friend! MWAHAHAHAHA!

**Courtney: **Haha.Sucks for you!While you're burnin', I'm brownin'!

**AnadeChangy: **(bows) Why, thank you for your wondrous comment!

**Opal Gimstone: **Well, the mask/medicine thing isn't really a cure. It's more like a reliever. The skin tissue is very exposed in that kind of deformity, so it's very susceptible to infection. The medicine is more like an anti-biotic, and the mask is used as an extra guard from infection. Oh, Lord, I sound like my mother (she's a nurse)!

**MoonAvenger: **NOOOOO! I NEED HIM! (somehow poofs into Erik's and Erika's hiding place, grabs Erik, and poofs back to her computer chair) (huggles Erik) My precioussss…

_**History Repeats Itself**_

**Chapter 5**

OoOoOoO

Since the rest of her family left that same Monday to go to visit relatives in Buffalo for the next week and a half, Tassy was left at home with her neighbor asked to checking up on her every other day. So she didn't have a problem leaving home to go to her tutoring with Erik.

As she left, carrying her folded music that Erik gave her to practice with; she noticed some dangerously dark clouds hovering over her. She sighed, going back to unlock the door she had just locked two seconds before to get an umbrella.

_Raining in NYC in the summer? That's uncommon, _she thought absently as she grabbed a small, black, collapsible umbrella from the closet in the hallway. She closed and locked the door once again as she walked out. The air was very thick and heavy, a warning of more then a slight drizzle. Tassy started to sweat from the heat, so she stripped herself of jacket, tying it around her waist, exposing her plain black t-shirt. Surprisingly, she found herself yearning for the cool, dark underground where she was headed.

Wanting to keep a stubborn distaste to that place, Tassy quickly forced herself to silently complain to herself that she wasn't driving a nice, air-conditioned SUV. She had her driver's license, but her mom only had a big, dirty, bulky van used to tote her big family around; in this case to Buffalo, New York. Tassy hated driving in that stinky, unattractive monster, though. Off-white didn't even _begin_ to describe the color…

Finding herself unconsciously opening the trapdoor on the side of the community center, her stomach predictably clenched with dread as she entered an atmosphere where she knew she would be battered with criticism by Erik.

But in her shrewd view of Erik, she decided to keep him guessing. If he really did think like the Phantom of the Opera, she knew that he was used to being in control. And that would mean that the best way to crack him out of his shell and notice her as a person worth teaching is to be unpredictable. Then, once she gets his eye, it would be an easier road.

Pleased with herself, she walked though the wooden door, ignoring Erik's annoyed grunt as she slammed it shut…loudly. Approaching the organ, where he was sitting, Tassy placed the piece of music on it in an oddly business-like way, and just stood there, watching Erik patiently. He just stared at her, hundreds of different emotions playing on his features; mostly hovering on confusion. Which she enjoyed watching. Within the passing of a few milliseconds, Erik made annoyed-looking eyebrow-rise when he saw that she was just toying with him.

"Did you practice?" he asked her.

"Yes," she replied coolly, unemotionally. Well, to be completely truthful, she only practiced for maybe less then an hour altogether that day. But she had to help her siblings pack that morning, which was a very trying task, and then she had to go to the rehearsal, go home, make dinner for herself, practice for maybe half an hour, and then come here. She didn't do much, but she still practiced.

"Let's see it, then," he told her, turning to the piano. "Start at the very beginning."

"Yes, sir," she said, her voice hinting only the faintest of sarcasm. Erik began the introduction.

"_Alone upon the housetops to the North_

_I turn and watch the lightning in the sky…_What is it?_"_ Tassy asked impatiently when Erik had stopped his accompaniment with a sour note.

"You told me you had practiced," he spat oddly through barely moving lips, his eyes locked onto hers.

"I did," she told him indignantly. "What, did you want me to practice ten hours a day or something? I had a very busy day today, anyway."

"No," he said, sounding deadly. "But I do expect you to practice for at least two hours a day. Not at the same interval…" he added, seeing Tassy's mouth opening and ready to argue. "Spread it around each day. Now…" He turned back to the organ. "I suggest you work harder on your opening notes. You're starting too harshly again. How many times must I tell you; let the notes float!"

Tassy decided to say nothing, so she clenched her jaw and nodded slowly. Erik made her practice those two lines over and over again until even he seemed satisfied. Then they moved on to the harder notes and Erik even allowed her to add the teensiest emotion to the easier ones.

During one silent interval, while Erik was writing notes for her in her music, Tassy asked him something.

"When am I going to work on 'Angel of Music'?" Erik thought for a moment.

"Once I see that you are on that level," he told her calmly. But Tassy could see instantly that this guy was trying to push her buttons. Funny, not only did he looked like he popped out of the nineteenth century, but he seemed to think that young woman were just as gullible as they were 200 years previous.

"All right, sounds fine with me," Tassy said in a_ very_ uncommon civil tone for her. Two could play this game. Yeah, it was childish, but it did have its satisfactions. For Tassy, it was Erik's brief, but baffled look. As expected, however, he got over it within a blink of an eye.

"Would you like to continue our work on your piece now?" he replied in an equally polite manner. Tassy just offered him something between a nod and a shrug.

They ran through the piece another two or three times as Erik fixed her posture, breathing, dynamics, etc. along the way as she sang. She kept her characteristic resentment of criticism to herself when Erik corrected her. It was almost unbearable, but she kept it up.

Finally, Erik said, "You may run through the piece on your own now." Tassy looked at him in genuine surprise. "I will not be correcting you at all. If you mess up, go on. I will not stop the accompaniment until the song is finished, and you will not go home until you finish the entire song."

Erik started up the accompaniment, and Tassy sang. She closed her eyes, trying to lead the music from her heart and mind, and make it flow out through her mouth. Her heart skipped excitedly as she reached the first high note. But her throat caught on the dip back down to the lower ones, creating an embarrassingly silent gap in the music. Flushed, Tassy quickly picked up where Erik was playing. She could see his jaw was clenched and his eyes sparked with displeasure.

The rest of the short piece went well, but when Erik ended his accompaniment, he just sat there for a few seconds silently.

"You got overconfident," he said simply, quietly. "Again." And with that, he started the intro. Tassy, humiliated though she was, was determined to go through the piece as best as Erik expected her to, perhaps even better. She closed her eyes once more, but this time not to just rely on some miracle that the music would magically flow out of her like some marvelous waterfall without any help from her; she closed her eyes to concentrate.

And as she did, all of what Erik had talked to her about just floated to her conscious, and she sang like she was reading a book. The more she concentrated on what was coming up, not just what she was singing, the more she could see with her mind's eye, and the more light-sounding her voice became.

When she finished, Tassy didn't dare open her eyes. She didn't know exactly why she didn't want to, she just couldn't. It was as if she believed her world was in complete control in the blissful blackness of her mind, and she didn't want to let go of that.

"Good. You've made a definite improvement," Erik said coolly and officially. "Now that you've completed the first step, I'll get you started on the next."

Tassy finally opened her eyes.

"And how many steps 'til I get the 'Angel of Music' level?" Tassy asked almost slyly.

"It all depends on you, Mademoiselle," he told her. "Now…" He stood up, and you could safely say that he literally towered over Tassy, who was a few inches shorter for someone her age. "I believe that since you have finished 'The Song of a Panthan Girl,' you are ready to move onto another for practice." He moved toward a bookcase with many of the shelves containing folders, most likely holding sheet music. As he shuffled through some of them, Tassy sat on the farthest edge of his piano seat, fingering some of the keys on the organ absent-mindedly. She was in deep thought. Should she ask? No! But why not? No. Yes. No. Yes. No.

Yes.

"What about that one song?" she asked him slowly. "The one you sang when Ken and I first met you? 'Believe Me All Young Charms' or something like that?"

Erik froze. He stood silently for a few agonizing seconds. Tassy tensed with a comeback for anything he had to say about her suggestion.

"'Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms'," he corrected her, but sounding as if he was turning over the idea in his mind.

Okay, maybe she could save the retort.

"Why would you choose such a song to practice your vocal technique?" he asked her slowly. This question was one she didn't have a ready answer for, so she also waited a while to reply.

"I'm…not sure," she said quietly, yet keeping some of her confidence in her tone, and found eye contact with him. She took a deep breath, like someone about to reach their hand in a dark, black hole to retrieve some precious thing that they had dropped in there. "I think that…it's just a very beautiful song, and I want to learn it."

Erik thought again for a minute.

"It would be very complicated for your voice range," he said, musing more then stalling. "It's short, but the notes range from a low A in your voice area to a high C. You'll have to work on your habit of scooping your voice to sing something like that."

"'Scooping my voice'?" she repeated.

" 'Scooping' is when you don't go immediately to the correct note from another. You scoop," he replied, 'scooping' with his hand, and with his voice to match.

"Oh, okay," Tassy said, not exactly sure if she should say more on the matter. "Um…how does the song go again?"

Erik took a folder from the bookcase and brought it over to the organ. Tassy stood up to move from the piano bench when he sat. He cast a quick glance at her before he took out a couple sheets of music and started to play.

"_Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,  
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day  
Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,  
Like fairy-gifts fading away,  
Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,  
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,  
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart  
Would entwine itself verdantly still..."_

Tassy felt almost like she was in a trance, but refused to close her eyes to show how much the music wracked her heart with pleasure. But even without closing her eyes, she could feel Erik's voice and the haunting music from the organ combine as it did that Sunday.

"_It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,  
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,  
That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,  
To which time will but make thee more dear;  
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,  
But as truly loves on to the close,  
As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets,  
The same look which she turned when he rose." _

"Very short, but it seems Monsieur Moore did a good job writing it," Erik said quietly once he had finished. As he looked up, Tassy quickly pushed away the dreamy look in her eyes to be replaced with an expression of mild gratification. "If you would like, we can start to work on this piece now," he asked her. Tassy offered him a 'sure' in the form of a shrug.

"Can I have the sheet music for it, though?" Tassy asked. "It would be hard to practice if I don't know the lyrics." Erik nodded and gave her the music. The paper felt very old and delicate. She made a quick promise to herself to be careful with it.

"I think that I can let you look through it until Wednesday when you and Monsieur Johnson come to practice with me," he told her. "You may go."

Tassy nodded and swiftly walked out of the room with her music. For the first time in a week, she felt genuinely happy.

OoOoOoO

_That was actually much better then yesterday's lesson, _Celia said.

"Yes," Erik admitted. "She was a lot more cooperative today." He casually stretched out his legs from out of under the piano bench.

_I think this century is getting to you, Erik, _Celia teased. _You're getting lazy. _

"Well, what else do you expect me to do?" he asked. "I am left down here in my cavern with almost nothing to do except play music. Even after two days I'm becoming restless. I don't even have…" He stopped himself, not bearing to speak her name. So instead he changed the subject. "How long am I to be here?"

_As long as it takes, _Celia said sternly._ You'll have to find something to do between lessons and watching rehearsals instead of mourning your loss over Christine._ Erik flinched. This is not where he wanted the conversation to lead.

_Erik, _she told him softly. _I know it's hard for you, but Christine can't be a part of your life now. She has made her choice, and it's useless to… _

"Are you saying I am to forget her?" he spat, his face turning red. Not just from anger, but also from his embarrassment and sorrow. "Just like that? Forget my love, my sorrow, my pain? Just like that? No. I'm sorry, but that's impossible."

_Nothing is impossible, _Celia said quietly. _I had hoped you had come to realize that, considering all you have witnessed. _She began to walk, almost glide to where he sat. Then she stopped. _But it seems we will have to discuss this another time. _And with that, she promptly disappeared.

OoOoOoO

"Uh, hello? Anyone here?"

It was Tuesday; seven o' clock, and Kennedy had just descended the stairway from the trapdoor, half-expecting Celia or that strange man to show up. Nervous about his first lesson with his odd tutor, he slowly made his way along the dim corridor to the wooden door.

As he reached it, however, he could hear nothing but the scratching of a pen on paper on the other side of the door. He gingerly opened it, peeking cautiously into the room, like some small child sneaking into a kitchen to steal a cookie.

The man sat in a large armchair in a distant corner of the room, holding a notebook and an old-fashioned feather quill in his hand. A small pot of black ink sat on the small side table beside the chair, accompanied by a small, undecorated lamp.

"Um…sir…am I early?" Ken asked hesitantly in his deep, soft voice. The man paused with his writing and looked up. The man's face still chilled him of how similar it was to his own face…minus the white mask, whereas Ken had a clear one.

"No. You are very much on time," the man replied. "And you can call me Erik. Your feisty young lady friend calls me the same." Erik grinned slightly as he stood up. He was wearing a loose, white, buttoned shirt and the same black pants from the last time Ken had seen him.

As he walked toward his piano, Erik asked Ken, "Do you know your voice range?"

"Ah…no," he replied slowly, slightly embarrassed of his ignorance.

"Well, let us see then. Come here," Erik told him, gesturing to him to come over.

"Beside you or the piano?" Ken asked as he walked unsurely toward him.

"First of all, it's a pipe organ, not a piano," Erik corrected him. "And second of all, I can't hear you as well beside it then if you are standing beside me, can I?" Still very embarrassed and uncomfortable, he obeyed.

"Now, I want you to follow the organ with your voice," he told him. "Here's your first note…" He played middle C. Ken matched his voice with it. "Very good. Now I'm going to play that octave. You might have to get into your falsetto, that's your highest pitch range, while singing it. Don't be afraid to let your voice crack. Let me play it first…" He played the octave once, and then let Ken sing it. He did this with higher and lower octaves until he found his range.

"You have a range froma low Cto a high A in your range," he muttered, though he seemed to be talking half to himself. Erik was staring down at the organ, rapping his fingertips on the ivory keys. He stopped after a few seconds and looked up sharply. "To begin your tutoring," he began in a strong, authoritive voice. "You will select a piece from the…musical. I will teach you how to sight-read, posture, breathing and vocal techniques, and other assets that I have recognized that you obviously do not have."

Ken bit the inside of his cheek. This 'insultation' wasn't the best way to teach him.

"Which piece of music would you like to learn first?" Erik asked.

"Uh…well…the first piece that the Phantom sings in the play is the 'Angel of Music' reprise and 'Phantom of the Opera'…" he stuttered, half-mumbling. "But the reprise is just two minutes long…so I guess 'Phantom of the Opera would be a good thing to sing first…"

"Well then," Erik said. "Let's get started, shall we?"

OoOoOoO

Kennedy Johnson was a fast learner, Erik found out, considering he was coming from almost no prior musical tuition. But Erik also found that Ken might have more then a good memory for instruction, but may have a natural gift of singing, much like himself.

"Try to round your voice," Erik told Ken after the first hour of teaching him the first verse. "Make it loud and powerful, but don't push. Mademoiselle Williams has the same problem. You both need to fix it drastically."

"Yes sir," Ken replied meekly. Erik found an obvious change when the young Phantom sang again.

Erik was happy. He enjoyed teaching this talented boy, a young man who's unsowed genius of music could compare to his at that age. Tacita Williams, on the other hand, could compare to his stubbornness and hot-headedness. But, as much as he hated to admit it, she had the potential to sing like…like his angel.

OoOoOoO

**Author's Closing Note:** Okay, I'll promise I'll try to update at least once every weekend!

Peace, and don't forget to turn your clocks one hour forward!


	6. The Devil's Advocate

**Author's Note:** (sighs) Only 3 reviews. Oh well…Ick, my shirt smells like car exhaust…bleh. Must…get…perfume! (runs to spray lots and lots of perfume on herself, then comes back) Ahhhhhhh…dat's better!

**Reviewers:**

**Courtney:** Thanks for da bracelet! It's purty!

**Opal Gimstone:** Yeah, I knew my homework because I'm in my school's honor choir, so I've been hearing that kind of stuff for the past two years, lol. Anyway, Erik's not really _bored_. Christine was his muse, and since he doesn't have her anymore, it's hard for him to wake up that creative genius of his. But yeah…maybe I should expose him to some of that good ol' 21st century stuff (grins like a mad scientist)

**Moon Avenger: **See disclaimer.

**Sbkar:** Yay! A new reviewer! I'm so glad you like this. I hope you'll keep reviewing as I write.

**Disclaimer: **YESH! HE'S MINE! ALLLLL MINE! (tries to grab Erik, but other phangirls Punjab author) Okay…(gasp)…maybe not…(wheeze)

Oh, and I thank this one nameless lyric site for letting me find the screenwriting thing of the POTO play.

_**History Repeats Itself**_

**Chapter 6**

OoOoOoO

Ken walked to Tassy's house after their second audition that Wednesday. He found that the house was much quieter then usual, and their large van was not parked in the driveway.

_Maybe Tassy drove herself to the Community Center,_ he thought as he ascended the steps to the front door and knocked. Tassy, in fact, opened the door. She looked surprised at the sight of him.

"Oh, hey Ken," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"I was heading to the Center for our lesson," he told her. "Are you coming?"

"Uh, yeah," she said. "Let me go get my music and I'll be right back." She swiftly turned and walked back into her house, leaving the door slightly ajar. As far as he could tell, the house was definitely deserted except for Tassy.

"So, you're home alone?" Ken asked when Tassy came out with a folder and keys to lock her door.

"Yeah," Tassy replied, stuffing the keys in her jean pocket. "My mom took the mob to Buffalo to visit my aunt. I promised her I wouldn't have any wild parties while she was gone." She grinned. Ken grinned back.

"So…how were your practices with Erik?" Ken asked.

"You mean the stiff?" Tassy said, rolling her eyes. "He's a good teacher and all, but he's so…_precise_. He gets all riled up over every tiny mistake! It's so annoying."

"That's just to make you a better singer, you know," Ken told her gently, seeing that _she_ was starting to get riled up.

"Yeah, I guess," she shrugged.

When they reached the trapdoor, Ken opened it to allow Tassy to get through, and then followed her in. They both walked through the corridor in silence, feeling almost as if the slightest noise would disturb the sacredness of it.

And then they heard a violin's sweet song drift through the door at the end of the hall.

"I didn't know the Phantom of the Opera could play the violin," Tassy whispered to Ken, a slight grin on her face.

"Maybe he doesn't, but our teacher does," Ken replied, opening the door.

Erik was on an armchair near the corner of the room, a violin placed delicately in his hands as he played with his eyes closed. But he stopped playing when he felt their presence. He placed the violin and the bow on the small table beside the armchair and stood up.

"You're late," he said plainly, walking over to his organ.

"I didn't know the Phantom of the Opera could play the violin," Tassy said to him as he sat down, repeating the previous comment that she made to Ken. Erik looked at her coolly.

"I see you haven't read the Leroux version of his book, then," he replied. "For it clearly states that the Opera Ghost loved to play the violin just as much as the pipe organ."

"Well, _of course_ he read the book," Tassy muttered sarcastically to Ken. "With an obsession comes the need to know every detail of the subject of that obsession."

Knowing Tassy's likeliness to cynical remarks, Ken said nothing. Erik, however, glared at Tassy and said, "Is that a insult? That I have more knowledge then you do of certain things?"

"But of course not," Tassy said innocently, but her sly eyes betrayed her.

"Oh," Erik said chillingly. He stood up from the piano bench, walking over to her. "Then it certainly wouldn't be insulting to say that you sing like a sick cow; and not to mention have the fat of one."

That touched a nerve. A vein twitched in Tassy's temple as her jaws clenched to an extreme that could break a coconut shell.

"You just say that because you want Kari here, and not me!" Tassy said accusingly, finally voicing her anger to him.

"Perhaps that is so," he shot back. Tassy paused, thinking of what she should say to that. Her eyes narrowed at him.

"Well, if that's the case…" she replied in a venomous tone. "…then perhaps I should quit. I have a small enough part to learn on my own." She turned around to leave, but stopped when she saw the door open.

Celia appeared at the doorway. Ken, feeling like he was caught in the middle of this heated argument, looked relieved. The tall woman looked sternly at Tassy, communicating to her in sign language. Tassy looked expectantly at Ken for translation.

"She says that we both are to be taught because we have the most potential out of all the actors and actresses in the play, and that it has nothing to do with our part in the play. She says that we are being tutored to become greater singers altogether…for life," Ken said, pausing to think over Celia's reasoning himself.

Tassy closed her eyes for a second, as if gathering herself. She opened them, this time her eyes were as emotionless as her voice.

"Fine," she said blankly. "I'll stay." Celia nodded gratefully, and then turned to Erik, who had a strange unidentified mix of emotions on his face. She gave him a warning look, and then signed to Ken. She then waved goodbye and left the room. All three of them were silent for a few seconds after Celia left. It was Erik who broke the silence.

"Let's begin practice, then," he said in a temperate, civil tone. "From what I have seen in your two practices, Mam'selle Giry has mostly been a chorus girl and dancer, with a few spoken lines in the scene of the Hannibal practice, while…" He paused for a second, clearing his throat. "…while the Phantom says nothing throughout that entire scene. So, Monsieur Johnson, I'll start to practice with you with singing 'Phantom of the Opera'. Mam'selle Williams, you can practice what you know of 'Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms', and I'll start you on that after I practice with Monsieur Johnson." Tassy nodded curtly and went to the side of the room with the armchair. She sat on it and opened the folder with her music. She delicately turned the pages of it as she seemed to mumble and hum the words and notes.

Erik turned to Ken, who was waiting patiently to start.

"Do you know the words to 'Phantom of the Opera' already?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Ken replied. "I have the movie CD, and I've listened to it a few times." Strangely, Ken noticed an oddly confused, and then knowing look on Erik's face. But he covered it up instantly.

"Very well," Erik said. "Let's start where you come in…" He walked back to the organ, with Ken following. He started the accompaniment where Christine had just finished singing her verse.

"_Sing once again with me  
our strange duet  
My power over you  
grows stronger yet_

And though you turn from me,  
to glance behind,  
the Phantom of the Opera is there -  
inside your mind."

Erik then, along with the accompaniment, played Christine's part on the organ. Ken sang again when it was his turn.

"_It's me they hear . . ._

_  
My spirit and your voice,  
in one combined:  
the Phantom of the Opera is there  
inside your mind . . . _

_Sing my angel of music . . ._ What?"

Erik had stopped playing, and looked up at him. Even Tassy stopped her humming at looked at the two of them, wondering what stopped the music.

"You missed a verse," Erik said deliberately.

"What verse?" Ken asked. He knew the song by heart! How could he miss a verse?

"Perhaps this _movie CD_ is different from the actual musical," Erik told him. "I'll sing where you left off." He started up the accompaniment once more.

"_In all your fantasies/you always knew/that man and mystery…_And then Kari will sing; _Were both in you. _And then you, with Kari, will sing;_ And in this labyrinth/where night is blind/the Phantom of the Opera is here/inside your mind…_And _then_ you will say 'Sing, my angel of music.' Do you understand?" Ken nodded.

"Then sing it."

OoOoOoO

After a few more run-throughs of 'Phantom of the Opera', Erik seemed satisfied. He looked over at Tassy, who was flitting through her music glassy-eyed and feeling extremely bored.

"Mam'selle Williams; are you ready for your lesson?" Tassy's head shot up.

"Yes," she told him, trying not to sound relieved. She stood up and fixed a cold look on her face as she reminded herself of what he told her earlier, confirming her belief that he wanted Kari there and not her. She walked over to the organ as Ken passed her to practice by himself where she had.

Tassy placed the folder of music on his organ and then stood up straight, ready to start.

"Are you sure you have sight-read the music correctly?" he asked her, his voice a little more challenging then it should have been.

"We'll see if we begin," she replied coolly. Erik just began the accompaniment. Tassy started to sing on cue.

"_Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,  
Which I gaze on so fondly today  
Were to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms,  
Like fairy-gifts fading away,  
_

_Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,  
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,  
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart  
Would entwine itself verdantly still . . ."_

To her delight, Erik seemed frustrated, most likely due to the fact that she sang everything on the right note and the right rhythm.

"_It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,  
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,  
That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,  
To which time will but make thee more dear;  
_

_No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,  
But as truly loves on to the close,  
As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sets,  
The same look which she turned when he rose . . . "_

With her chin held up high in triumph, she looked at Erik to see what he would say. He didn't for a few seconds.

"You remembered not to scoop, and you know the rhythm," he said, almost admittingly. "But in the middle of the piece you began to sing from your chest instead of your diaphragm. And you sounded like you are just singing the notes, not the words. Your dynamics were off and you put no emotion into it."

Tassy literally bit her tongue and said nothing. Her mind was filled with sharp comebacks and remarks, so it was almost unbearable. But she could see that that was exactly what Erik wanted to hear, and she could not give him any of that kind of achievement. Her pride was what kept her quiet.

"Sing the first verse," he told her. Tassy obeyed, and even when Erik sharply corrected her in the middle of it, she just stared at him blankly, nodded, and corrected herself. They did this over and over again until they had finished the entire song, whereas Erik told her to sing it through twice.

"You need to practice you dynamics more at home," he told her after she did so. He then turned to where Kennedy was sitting on the armchair, looking half-asleep.

"Monsieur Johnson," he said, raising his voice. Ken jerked a little, his eyes rid of the dreamy look they had. "I'm about to tell you and Mademoiselle Williams something important, so listen." Ken sat up straight.

"I have changed your practice schedule so you both can practice at even times," he told them. He shuffled through the pile of papers on his organ and pulled out two, giving both to Tassy, who walked over to Ken and gave him one.

"You," Erik said, looking at Tassy. "…will be practicing with me Tuesdays and Thursdays, and Kennedy will be practicing Sundays and Fridays. You both will still practice together on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Understood?" The two nodded.

"Then you both may leave."

OoOoOoO

"Meg! You forgot your cue again!" Mrs. Harrison barked at Tassy. She sighed heavily. "Let's start again, please, when Meg said that Christine could sing the aria." She clapped her hands, ordering them to get into place. They all scrambled back into place as Tassy began her lines.

"Christine Daae could sing it, sir," Tassy started, reading from her binder and speaking to the young man playing Firman.

"The chorus girl?" he replied, doing the same.

"She's been taking lessons from a great teacher."

"From whom?" the boy playing Andre asked, looking up at a nervous Kari from his lines.

"I don't know, sir…" Kari stuttered, more out of tension then trying to be in-character.

"Not you as well!" 'Firman' exclaimed, turning to 'Andre', but keeping his eyes on his lines the whole time. "Can you believe it? A full house—and we have to cancel!"

"Let her sing for you, monsieur," the girl playing Mme Giry said. "She has been well taught." The guy who played Monsieur Reyer then spoke up.

"From the beginning of the aria, then, mam'selle," he said, raising a hand like he was holding a conductor's rod. Kari's face turned pale, like at the auditions, as she struggled to reach the higher notes as she sang. After the first verse of two, however, she settled to singing a third or fourth below the appointed notes.

"_When you find that, once  
again, you long  
to take your heart back and be free -  
if you ever find a moment,  
spare a thought for me._

"_Think of all the things  
we've shared and seen -  
don't think about the things  
which might have been . . ._

"Think of me,  
think of me waking,  
silent and resigned.

"Imagine me,  
trying too hard to put you  
from my mind.

"Recall those days  
look back on all those times,  
think of the things  
we'll never do -  
there will never be a day,  
when I won't think of you . ."

Derrick then started to sing back to her from his position near the edge of the stage.

"_Can it be?  
Can it be Christine?  
Bravo!  
What a change!  
You're really not a bit  
the gawkish girl that once you were...  
She may not remember me,  
but I remember her..."_

Kari, who looked relieved when she took her break from singing, got that deer-in-headlights-look again as it was her turn to sing.

"_We never said  
our love was evergreen,  
or as unchanging as the sea -  
but please promise me,  
that sometimes you will think   
o—o—o—o—o—of me!"_

As Kari finished the last line, with a good bit of difficulty, she looked nervously at Mrs. Harrison. The director just glanced at her with a forced expression of approval.

"Are you sure you can't get your voice any higher, Kari?" she asked.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Harrison," Kari apologized. "But my voice just doesn't go that high. I'm a mezzo soprano, or an alto." Mrs. Harrison sighed.

"Well, if you can't get your voice higher, you might have to lip-sync to a CD," she replied, almost apologetically.

"Yes m'am," Kari muttered, her cheeks flushing. Mrs. Harrison then ordered them to practice again, this time with the extras and the other dancers.

When practice was over, Mrs. Harrison dismissed them, leaving them with the usual reminder to practice their lines, dancing, cues, etc.

The next week went by, without much improvement of singing on Kari's part. She tried to reach the higher noted with no prevail. One rehearsal on Saturday, while they practiced the 'Phantom of the Opera' scene, Kari's voice cracked on the high notes even when she sang a forth below the notes at the end of the piece.

"I'm sorry Kari, but you just can't do it," Mrs. Harrison said. "We'll have to use a CD or something." Kari wrung her hands sorrowfully. "You have great acting skills, and that's why I chose you as Christine. But no one is perfect…"

"Mrs. Harrison!" someone called.

"What?" she barked. The boy playing Monsieur Reyer jogged up to her, holding an envelope.

"It's for you," he said, handing it to her. Sure enough, _Madame Harrison_, spelt in extravagant letters, was on the front. As she turned it over however, she gasped.

An old-fashioned blood-red wax seal was melted in the shape of a hideous skull on the back of the envelope. Opening it with a look of apprehension on her face, Mrs. Harrison pulled out a piece of folded parchment. She scanned the letter, and then looked up, staring at Kari.

"It is about you," she said in a strange voice. "It says that you are to join Ken and Tassy to their tutoring on Saturday." Kari's eyebrows shot up in surprise, along with Ken's and Tassy's.

"C-can I read it?" she asked. Mrs. Harrison handed her the note.

"What does it say?" one of the extras asked.

"_Madame,_

_It has come to my attention that Kari Metherland, who plays the beautiful Christine Daae in your depiction of _The Phantom of the Opera_, is in dire need of my assistance. In my observances of your rehearsals, I have seen that Miss Kari cannot reach the appointed pitches that are required. With my tutoring, I can assure you that she will, and do even more. I can even promise you that she shall sing like the angel that Christine Daae is._

_Please inform Miss Kari to join Kennedy Johnson and Tacita Williams at their practice on Saturday for more instruction. _

_O.G."_

"'_O.G.'_?" Régine, the girl playing Carlotta exclaimed. "Isn't that short for 'Opera Ghost' in the movie?"

Everyone started to chatter excitedly until Mrs. Harrison whistled loudly.

"I do not know why exactly this person signed _O.G._ on this letter," she told them. "But what I do know is that it is not important. Back to your places! Now!" She barked.

Everyone whispered remarks of how the Phantom of the Opera has come back to life to haunt the stage once more, however, until the director finally got tired of it and called the rehearsal to a short end.

As they left, no one noticed a cloaked figure leave Box Five with a wide grin on his face.

OoOoOoO

**Author's Closing Note: EVERYONE MUST READ! **Lol It's not really important, but can people PLEASE read my songfic that I wrote? I'd really appreciate it! Thanks!


	7. Cascades of Gold

**Author's Note: SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE! Nobody looks up here, so I'll put the important thingy in the Author's Closing Note…thingy…thing…**

**Reviewers:**

**Opal Gimstone: **Yay! Someone noticed the not-missing-anymore verse and thinks I'm smart! (grins maniacally)

**Friend5: **Fine (pouts) I was hoping you wouldn't notice, anyway.

**TerpintineMind: **Yeah, I know. That and opening their mouth to shape those vowels. But I don't think that's much of a problem with Tassy, because, as you can see, she has a big mouth. Lol.

**Moon Avenger: **Yes, my Erik is a Cranky!Erik. Most likely due to Tassy's hotheadedness and Christine's…not-there-edness? I dunno. Don't know the exact word right now. ANYWAY…he's still very lovable. I also saw your review for my other stories. I had no idea it was you who wrote the Phangirl quiz! BTW, my s/n is CompassionateAngel.

**Haley Macrae: **I had to do that, or he would be VERY out of character.

**Disclaimer: **No. I don't own Leroux's great incarnation of hottness. Bah humbug.

_**History Repeats Itself**_

**Chapter 7**

OoOoOoO

"He can't be SERIOUS!" Tassy fumed to Brian backstage after rehearsal. "As if Kari taking MY spot in the play isn't bad enough…now she gets to have BOTH places of glory! Being taught by one of the best singers on Earth, _and_ playing one? That's bull crap, my friend! BULL! CRAP!" She kicked one of the background props twice, one time for each word, and ended up knocking it over.

"Hey!" Brian exclaimed, jumping up to retrieve the fallen, half-painted cardboard from its perilous fate. "That's one _I've _been working on!" He backed off, however, when he caught Tassy's withering glare. "Okay…you can kick it all you want, then."

She just kicked the cardboard half-heartedly again before she slumped against a wall, sliding almost melancholy down in a sitting position on the floor, and began to mutter explicit curses under her breath. Brian just watched and waited for the last stage of Tassy's rants; cold acceptation.

"You know what?" Tassy said at long last. "It doesn't matter. Kari is the leading role, after all, so she deserves to be taught how to sing correctly. Who am I to say that she can't? That's _Monsieur Erik's_ decision, not mine." She stood up.

"I'm going home," she muttered to Brian.

"Okay," he replied, not really expecting anything else. She left swiftly with one hand buried deep in the pockets of her dark green camouflage pants, and the other fiddling with her hair.

_Knowing Tassy, she'll blow it off in a day or two,_ Brian thought as he bent over his slightly dented prop, wondering how to fix it up.

OoOoOoO

_Oh, _very_ smart, Erik; revealing yourself like that, _Celia said scornfully as she confronted him in the dark corridor leading to his cavern-like quarters.

"I believe it was," Erik told her calmly. "It was short and to the point. Not to mention amusing to see the reaction on certain people's faces."

_So very mature of you,_ Celia said sarcastically, but leaving it at that. They both entered the room; Erik veering toward his piano, Celia hovering (not literally) at the doorway.

_Erik, I need to talk to you about something,_ she said, almost hesitantly.

"Mmm?" he replied obscurely as he sat on the bench, and started to play a soft melody.

_I know this is a sensitive subject for you, but we need to talk about Christine, _she told him. Erik stopped playing instantly, and slowly turned around. A look of calloused pain poisoned his demure stature. He said nothing.

_You are suffering. You're yearning for Christine. I can see it in your mind and in your actions; especially since your little spat with Miss Williams. What is it that makes you resent her so? _

She knew perfectly well why, but she also knew that getting Erik to confess his frustrations would be the first step of healing his internal wounds.

"She's…not Christine," Erik muttered. "Her voice is the same…but…she just isn't Christine. That's why I've been so restless. I don't have Christine to inspire me…"

_And you believe Kari will?_ Celia finished.Erik sighed his agreement.

"Even reading every book I own couldn't push her from my mind," he told her, his face now fallen completely into helplessness.

_Perhaps you need to stop reading and get a taste of this century,_ Celia suggested. _Movies, music…and it wouldn't hurt to get a change of fashion. _Erik cocked an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with how I dress?" he demanded. "I think I look rather…dashing in these clothes." Celia snorted. "What!"

_You certainly complain about your looks so much that it's a surprise to hear you call yourself 'dashing'! _Erik looked uncomfortable.

_Anyway…your fashion sense is—this sounds corny—'so 19th century'. There. I said it. You need to go shopping. My, that sounds corny, too. But yes, some jeans and a nice crisp shirt would do wonders for your image._

Erik, like all men being included in a discussion of clothing, looked baffled. Celia stopped when she saw this.

_I'm sorry. Human women are rubbing off on me, _she apologized. _But I think that you going into the city would help keep your mind off things. _

"I guess you're right," Erik confessed. "But would anything be open at night?"

_Honey, in New York City, EVERYTHING is open at night._

OoOoOoO

Kari Metherland spotted Kennedy after rehearsals.

"Ken!" she called. Ken turned around. She instantly saw the same I-don't-want-you-to-see-me look on his face whenever he spotted her. It sent a pang to her heart.

"Hey, Ken! Can I talk to you for a sec?" she asked, walking up to him.

"Yeah."

"Um, it's about the tutoring thing," she said. "When and where am I supposed to be there?"

"I usually walk with Tassy to our tutor's place, so we could go to your house and we could all walk there together," Ken suggested. "Practice is from eight to ten at night."

"Okay," Kari said, flashing her bright smile. "Where's Tassy? I didn't see her come out after rehearsal."

"I dunno. I didn't see her either…hey, there she is!"

Tassy was walking; actually, she was more like stalking past them on the sidewalk with her arms crossed tightly against her chest, heading toward her house. Her darkly outlined eyes glittered bitterly when they spotted the two of them.

"Hey Tassy, Kari is going to walk with us to Erik's…place, okay?" Ken told her as she passed.

"'K," she replied in a low, almost imperceptible voice. She just crossed her arms even tighter. Kari could see her fingernails digging into the skin on her arms, turning the flesh around it sheet white. She wondered for a second what had happened in her life to make Tassy so bitter and distant. But then Kari felt a familiar surge of compassion when she remembered how Tassy's father had left her family just a year ago.

Kari knew that Mr. Williams had a lot of money and drinking issues, and that he had been fired from his job just before he left. Tassy's mother had no idea where her husband had gone, but she seemed relieved after he left, and took up two jobs. Tassy, also, took up the long Friday night shift at the cinemas to try to add up to their meager stream of money. They lived one of those lower-middle class lifestyles, but they went on quite well after the departure of Mr. Williams.

Tassy, however, seemed to always have that bitterness in her eyes, even before her father left. Whether it came from living with a drunk, or something else, Kari had no idea.

OoOoOoO

Erik anticipated the arrival of his new student with the utmost enthusiasm. Already he had made out a plan of how to teach Kari Metherland. Over the past few weeks, he had noted what the major problems in her singing were. Mostly, from what he could see, she had been taught previously by some other person, but, as much as he hated to admit, she was still seriously flawed. She had a bad habit of not shaping her vowels and slouching as she sang.

He was pacing back and forth in front of his organ when the door opened. His heart quickened as his caught the first glance of those soft brown curls. He stopped pacing instantly and just stood rigidly as Ken and Kari walked into the room side by side. He barely noticed Tassy slink silently through the door behind them and headed toward the armchair on the other side of the room.

Erik bowed deeply to Kari.

"I am honored to finally be acquainted to such a beautiful young lady," Erik said flatteringly. Kari blushed deeply.

"Oh, well…thank you," she replied, appreciating the comment.

_The very embodiment of Christine, _Erik thought to himself. _If only she had her voice…_

"Mademoiselle," Erik began out loud. "Welcome to my home. You shall be practicing with me on Wednesdays and Saturdays from eight 'til ten, along with Monsieur Johnson…and Miss Williams. Your private lessons with me will be on Mondays and Thursdays from seven until I decide when we've done enough…"

"Wait a second!" a sharp voice called from his armchair. It was Tassy. "My practices are on Thursdays. How can that fit in?" Erik thought quickly before answering.

"Mademoiselle Kari here has much more to learn then you do," he said. "I think that you can suffice with just one private lesson, seeing as we have already started on Angel of Music." It was a very good explanation, but Tassy's expression suddenly turned from an aghast stare to a dark, loathing glower.

"I see," she said simply, her voice low and strangled. Erik could see she was jealous, and dismissed it in his mind as being childish. He turned back to Kari.

"You and I have a lot of work to go through to fix your voice," Erik said. "Have you had any professional vocal training?"

"Yes, I'm in my church choir," she said shyly.

_Not much, but at least she'll know the basics,_ he thought. "Perhaps we should start with you first? Monsieur Johnson, sing with her on the song of 'Phantom of the Opera.'" Ken nodded obediently. Erik went to sit at his organ, and began to play the instrumental introduction to the song.

Kari struggled to reach the higher notes, but since most of the pitches were low, she did very well.

"Straighten your back!" Erik told her when she had begun to slouch once again. Kari obeyed, and found a noticeable difference in her breathing afterward.

Ken and Kari, Erik found as they sang the verses together, blended beautifully. Ken's powerful tones encouraged Kari to sing louder without overpowering her voice. Erik stopped playing, however, when they got to the point where Kari had to vocalize those extremely high notes.

"Very good," Erik said. "But now I need to teach Kari how to reach those high notes. You may go sit with Tassy, Kennedy, while I teach Kari." Ken nodded and walked back to where Tassy was sitting in a deep reverie.

"I want to see how high you can go on the organ. Follow you voice with the notes, please." He started with middle C, gradually getting higher until her voice cracked; an octave above G. Kari became extremely flustered when she couldn't hit it.

"I'm sorry," she muttered when he flinched.

"That's completely alright," Erik told her. He stood up and walked beside her. "We'll fix it. Now, I want you to not panic as you go higher. It puts stress on your vocal chords. Make it gentle, and let it float. Close your eyes."

Kari obeyed, but shivered when Erik placed a hand on her stomach. "Lead the note from here. Visualize it floating up to your head, and open you mouth as wide as you can." He pulled his hand away from her and tapped the G that he wanted her to sing. "I want you to lead it, but be gentle. Take a deep breath." Kari inhaled with her mouth wide open, her eyes still shut. "And sing."

The note flew from her like a dove, gentle and soft. She held it for as long as she can, and when she stopped, she opened her eyes. Erik saw the delight and triumph in them when she smiled.

"I did it," she said breathlessly.

"Bravissimo," he told her softly. "Now, let's work on getting it even higher…"

They worked for about an hour, until she was finally able to hit a high B. Erik stopped there, knowing that it'll put too much strain on her vocal chords if she sang like that too much. He brought Ken over to practice with him, and finally Tassy, who sang very well, but had no emotion in her voice.

For the last hour, however, he got Kari and Ken to sing 'Phantom of the Opera' and the 'Angel of Music' reprise together.

"Very good. Mam'selle," he looked at Kari. "You are a very fast learner. I look forward to our lesson together on Monday. All of you may go now."

OoOoOoO

"Tassy? Has anyone seen Tassy?" Mrs. Harrison asked as she was taking roll. "I wanted to run through Angel of Music." Everyone shook their heads. Their director sighed heavily. "Alright, then; we'll start the Masquerade scene instead."

"But she better have a good excuse when she gets back," she muttered under her breath.

She ushered everyone onstage. They finally had most of the background props done, so the stagehands were busy moving them into place; including the life-size version of the staircase.

"Alright, in place, in place please!" Mrs. Harrison barked. "Christine and Raoul are going to be on the side, beside the column…yes, there. No, Danielle, Madame Giry is beside Carlotta! How many times must we go through this?" The bodies of about a fifty or so actresses, actors, extras, dancers, and stagehands pushed and shoved their way to get into place. Finally, though, everyone settled, ready to begin the rehearsal.

"Good. Brian, turn on the music when you are ready!"

"Aye, aye, Cap—ee—tan!" Brian exclaimed from the control room. The loud, exciting background music boomed through the loudspeakers. The actors playing Firman and Andre approached each other, pretending to lift their masks off.  
"M'sieur Firmin?" Andre asked.  
"M'sieur Andre?" Firman replied. They both laughed. "Dear Andre  
what a splendid party!"  
"The prologue to a bright new year!" Andre replied.  
"Quite a night! I'm impressed!" Firman exclaimed.  
"Well, one does one's best…"

They then both pretend to raise glasses, and say together, "Here's to us!"  
"I must say, all the same, that it's a shame that 'Phantom' fellow isn't here!" Firman guffawed. Then all the other actors/actresses, dancers, and extras begin to sing.

"_Masquerade!  
Paper faces on parade . . .  
Masquerade!  
Hide your face,  
so the world will  
never find you!  
Masquerade!  
Every face a different shade . . .  
Masquerade!  
Look around -  
there's another  
mask behind you!"_

"Mrs. Harrison?"

A soft voice picked itself from the raising voices of the chorus. But the director brushed it off; it might have been a mispronunciation in the group.

"_Flash of mauve . . .  
Splash of puce . . .  
Fool and king . . .  
Ghoul and goose . . .  
Green and black . . .  
Queen and priest . . .  
Trace of rouge . . .  
Face of beast . . .  
Faces . . ."_

"Mrs. _Harrison?_"

This time the voice sounded impatient, but it might have been her imagination…

"_Take your turn, take a ride  
on the merry-go-round . . .  
in an inhuman . . ."_

"MRS. HARRISON!"

The director whipped around to face an annoyed-looking, grey-hooded Tassy. She waved at the group to stop singing, and yelled at Brian to stop the CD.

"May I introduce the _late_ Tacita Williams?" Mrs. Harrison said coldly, talking to the crowd of teens and adults looking curiously at Tassy. She then turned back to Tassy. "May I also inquire if she has a written excuse to explain why she is late to rehearsal?"

"No, I don't have an excuse," she replied, her voice soft and neutral. Mrs. Harrison clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

"Miss Williams; I might expect some of the newer persons here to be tardy, but certainly not you," she scolded Tassy in a low voice, like one you would hear from a teacher who pulled you aside to discuss a bad grade. "You know better, Tassy! You have been dancing here for near ten years, so I expect you to know how I feel about tardiness.

"This performance goes on in a little more then a month, so I'm going to have to give out consequences to those who are late. I'll let you go this time, Miss Williams, but don't you be late again, do you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am," Tassy replied in the same low, unemotional tone. Satisfied, Mrs. Harrison dismissed her, telling her to get into place. Tassy quickly maneuvered through the horde of people to get to her place beside 'Madame Giry'.

"Brian! Start the music up again!"

"_Eye of gold . . .  
Thigh of blue . . .  
True is false . . .  
Who is who . . .?  
Curl of lip . . ."_

"Tassy, put down your hood!" Mrs. Harrison said loudly, trying to speak over the booming voices of the performers.

"_Swirl of gown . . ."_

Tassy didn't move.

"_Ace of hearts . . .  
Face of clown . . .  
Faces . . ."_

"Miss Williams, do you hear me?"

"_Drink it in, drink it up . . ." _

Apparently not.

"_Till you've drowned  
in the light . . .  
in the sound . . ."_

After they finished the Masquerade scene, Mrs. Harrison told the stagehands to set up the props for 'Angel of Music'; one of the scenes that defiantly need work on.

"And Tassy needs to take off her hood! It's blocking her face!" she called after her as she went backstage with Kari, the boy who played Reyer, Kennedy, Danielle (Madame Giry), and a few dancers. The rest of the cast went to the audience chairs

OoOoOoO

Tassy had goosebumps of excitement running up and down her arms and legs as she lagged behind the cast walking backstage to do 'Angel of Music'. Her hands itched to remove her jacket, but she restrained herself.

"Didn't Harrison tell you to take off the hoodie?" Brian asked her as she past him in the control room. Tassy didn't reply. She had to wait until the last minute.

The group of cast filtered out through the back corner of the huge stage. Tassy lingered behind the curtain until Kari had entered onto the stage, and then took off her jacket. With a deep breath, she walked onto the stage with her eyes glittering wildly. Yet she hoped that this outrageous, silent, yet desperate plea for attention would catch the interest of one hidden man in the balcony of a certain Box Five.

OoOoOoO

"Oh my God! Is that _Tassy?"_

"No way!"

"That is just too weird!"

"First Kennedy and Kari, now this?"

"She is so desperate for attention."

"I know! It's pitiful, really."

"That look's actually kind of good on her."

"Holy crap! She looks exactly like…"

Tacita Grace Williams had dyed her hair a bright, sun-ray blonde. Instead of the frizzy, uncombed, and unwashed look of her usual dry, ashy-brown, ponytailed hair, it now hung loose to her mid-back, straight and smooth.

Amazingly, the color of her hair complimented her skin tone, instead of making it seem washed-out.

Even more amazing was that she looked like the spitting image of the movie version of Meg Giry.

"I love your hair," Kari whispered to her as Tassy took her place beside her. She didn't reply, just nodded.

Mrs. Harrison, of course, was undaunted. She ordered them to begin the scene.

"And Brian needs to start the music on time!"

The ballet girls from the wings gush around 'Christine' who hands each a flower from her imaginary bouquet. 'Reyer' stiffly gives his approval. 'Madame Giry' approaches Christine.

"Yes, you did well. He will be pleased," Giry said to her in a delightfully authentic French accent. She then turned to the dancers. "And you! You were a disgrace tonight! Such ronds de jambe! Such temps de cuisse! Here we rehearse. Now!"

The ballet girls begin to dance as Giry keeps time with her foot. 'Christine' moves slowly, downstage, away from the dancers as her dressing room becomes visible. Unseen by her, 'Meg' also moves away and follows her. As 'Christine' is about to open the dressing room door, the 'Phantom' calls out to her from behind the curtain at the far left side of the stage.

"Bravi, bravi, bravissimi…"

"Christine? Christine?" 'Meg' calls from behind her.

"_Christine…" _

"Where in the world have you been hiding? Really, you were perfect! I only wish—"

"Miss Williams! You are off-beat again!" Harrison snapped. "You need to follow the CD!"

"Sorry!"

"Brian! Start it over!"

The rest of rehearsal went by the same way; Mrs. Harrison would pick certain parts of the play they needed to work on, and made them practice over and over until she was satisfied.

"Alright, everyone! Before you all leave, I want you to take one of these!" Mrs. Harrison held up a large stack of papers. "These are permission slips to see the actual Andrew Lloyd Webber performance of Phantom of the Opera. I think it will be a good experience for all of our young actors and actresses. We are even allowed to go backstage to speak with some of the performers. So, please pick one up before you leave! That is all!"

OoOoOoO

**Author's Closing Note**: **THIS TIME THIS IS REALLY IMPORTANT! **I haven't updated because my grandfather is terminally ill, and I was visiting him in Canada, so please forgive my tardiness! Oh, and please check out my profile…especially the special list of people at the bottom…(snickers)

Click that little purple button…you know you want to…

Okay.

NOOOO! NOT THAT BUTTON! THAT'S THE COMPUTER SELF-DESTRUCT BUTTON!

Oops—

**BLAM**

Houston, we have a problem. We have lost all contact with LW2005 and Co.

THANK BLOODY GOD!


	8. I Want You To Know Who I Am

**Author's Note: SORRY FOR THE VERY LATE UPDATE! NO MORE SCHOOL, THOUGH! YESSSSS! **Only four reviews. Oh well.

**Reviewers: **

**Moon Avenger: **Well, we all die someday, somehow.

**Lost my sanity: **Your question shall be answered in this chapter.

**Haley Macrae: **What idea? I MUST KNOW!

**Opal Gimstone: **Well…her hair wasn't really pretty. I was evil to Tassy and made it a washed out, ashy-brown color. So that was ONE motive to dye it…

**Disclaimer: Me no ownie.**

_Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart_

**Anne Frank**

_**History Repeats Itself**_

**Chapter 8**

OoOoOoO

**(I dedicate this part to Opal Gimstone)**

"But…but Celia! Why can't you buy me…_jeeens_ and running…shoes?" Erik protested as he was dragged up the stairway.

_Because the experience will be good for you, _Celia replied stubbornly.

"It's only clothing!"

Only _clothing? _She scoffed as she pulled him with surprising strength out of the trapdoor and onto the pavement. It was a warm Tuesday afternoon, with the sun almost blinded Erik.

"But it's _daylight!_" he protested as she led him around the Community Center.

_You look fine, _she persisted. Erik ripped his hand from her grasp.

"_I look fine?_" he said. "I'm definitely the opposite of fine! I'm wearing a _mask_. That's a little odd, don't you think?"

_Wear something else, then,_ she told him absently.

"What? Should I place a sack on my head?"

_If it bothers you so much, why don't you try walking around without it? _Celia replied tantalizingly, putting her hands on her hips.

"Are you crazy!" Erik protested, his voice rising to a high, panicking pitch. "Do you know how people would react?"Celia's chest heaved, like she was sighing.

_Society is different now, Erik, _she said. _Yes, deformity still attracts stares, but it is not referred to as the Devil's blessing, or God's curse—or however you want to put it—anymore. So you might as well let your entire face bask in the sun's warmth for once. _

"I'm not taking it off," he replied coldly. Celia's deep emerald eyes bore into his, her expression indecipherable. She then flicked the fingers on her right hand to the left.

His mask flew off.

Instantly, Erik cried out and fell back in surprise, and instinctively put his hand over his marred face.

"Damn you!" he swore, his eyes flaming, blatantly showing how angry and betrayed he felt. _Viper! Prying wench!_

Celia suddenly seemed weary and sad. She knelt in front of him, reaching a slender hand out to him to help him up. In his anger and bitter resentment, Erik slapped it away.

_You must do the things you think you cannot do_Celia said gently in his mind. Erik's fuming gaze softened. Embarrassed by his behavior, he shook his head.

"Not yet," he muttered, standing up and picking up his mask, placing it back on his face.

_Just so you know, I can see your face with or without your mask, _Celia said mildly.

"I know," he sighed, not exactly sure how he did.

OoOoOoO

"How could have humanity evolved so fast?" Erik said in awe as he stared at New York traffic inching its way along the street, after getting out of the yellow vehicle called a cab.

_Many things, _Celia replied, knowing his statement was mostly rhetorical._ Mostly it was because quite a few geniuses were introduced into the world, the World Wars called for special technology, man's impatience; things like that. _Erik grunted slightly in response, his eyes drinking in the amazing sites of the Big Apple.

Suddenly, in one of the cars, a young African American man pushed on of the knobs beside the 'steering wheel'. The result was music that Erik could not categorize. It had sharp, rhythmic staccatos, but the singer wasn't really singing. It sounded like the man 'singing' was reciting some sort of rhythmic poetry. Oh…and it was really loud.

"What in God's name is _that?_" Erik exclaimed to Celia, putting his hands over his ears to muffle the music.

_Music. Well, a type called rap, _Celia said._ But as Bill Cosby once said, "Nowadays, rap deserves a 'C' in front of it." _

Suspecting that the word she suggested wasn't complimenting, Erik nodded his head in agreement.

They came to a shop with large words spelling out, ARMANI EXCHANGE. Expensive-looking clothing on men and women models decorated the front.

Just then, Erik remembered that he had no money in this century.

"Celia…"

_I have money, don't worry, _she replied, signing with her hands to create the illusion that she really was deaf. As the two walked into the store, they were met with a blast of cool air…and one of those _really_ annoying salespeople.

"Hellooooo!" the woman exclaimed brightly, a huge smile on her face. "How may I help you? Anything specific you are looking for?" Everything that came out of her mouth was obviously memorized by saying it tens of thousands of times. The robotic woman did, however, stare curiously at Erik's bone-white mask. Celia responded with some hand gestures.

The woman's smile was still glued-on, but she looked quizzically at Erik. For a minute, Erik still thought that she was staring at his mask.

"What?" he asked, blinking confusedly. And then something clicked in his mind. "Oh, my apologies!" he said finally, embarrassed. "She's deaf. She can lip-read though."

"Armani services all people, so she's welcome here!" she told him brightly. "Is there anything specific you are looking for?"

Obviously the woman was programmed with only limited responses.

"Um…Celia?" he turned to the Angel, who looked like she was enjoying herself at his expense.

_Ask her to fit you up with a few casual outfits,_ Celia replied brightly.

"Can you put together a few…er…casual…um…outfits for me, please?" Erik asked the woman meekly.

"Of course!" she said. "Please follow me. My name is Jennifer." Jennifer walked briskly down the carpeted floors toward a sign that said 'Fitting Rooms.'

"Please, you two may sit while I rustle up a few outfits," Jennifer told them cheerfully when they got there, gesturing to cushioned armchairs in front of what looked like an entrance to horse stalls.

"Sir? What is your shirt and pant size?" Jennifer asked Erik. Erik's mouth kind of just hung open, like he was trying to say something. Just then, Celia gave Jennifer a slip of paper.

_Shirt: 54-56x36-37_

_Pant: 38x34_

Of course, Erik had no idea what these obscure numbers meant, but the saleswoman seemed satisfied, as she walked off briskly with her crazily permanent grin plastered on her face.

About fifteen minutes later, Jennifer came back, this time with a large amount of clothes in her arms. Taking a key out of her pocket, (obviously she had done this a few times to do this without dropping a single shirt) she unlocked one of the stalls and arranged the clothes, pairing one shirt and one pant, along with a couple of other accessories on a few of the outfits.

"There you are!" Jennifer said. "Tell me if you have any problems; I'll be right out here with your wife!"

Erik paled at that comment.

"Uh…s-she's not my wife," Erik told her. For the first time, Jennifer's smile faltered.

"Oh my goodness! My mistake," she gushed, also paling with embarrassment. "Well…um…I'll be out here then." She flashed him a weak smile.

Celia, of course, was close to hysteria at the little incident.

OoOoOoO

For the next hour or so, Erik felt like one of those dress-up, little paper dolls that he had seen young girls play with when he was younger. Celia and Jennifer, for some odd reason, were able to communicate with each other even with Celia being 'deaf'. They used hand motions and appeared to agree or disagree on the same outfits and looked like they could discuss the color, size, etc. from what he could hear from the one-sided conversation (that being Jennifer the only one he could understand).

_Women, _Erik thought wearily as he pulled on his umpteenth shirt, the little paper price tag scratching his skin.

_I heard that! _Celia warned him inside his mind, although she sounded like she was quite enjoying herself. Erik sighed as he walked out of the horse stall. And that's exactly how he felt at the moment: A show horse.

Finally, when Celia and Jennifer seemed satisfied with five or six outfits, and Celia purchased them. Holding the bags as Celia cheerfully walked out the door, Erik asked her if they were going back to the Community Center.

_Of course not! I have a special NYC tour planned for you tonight, _Celia told him. _Clubs, movies, shopping for me…now don't give me that look. You had your turn playing dress-up, now it's my turn._

_She says it like it's a _fun_ thing, _Erik thought.

_I also have a little surprise arranged for you, _Celia added slyly.

"Oh really?" Erik replied.

_Oh yes. _Erik cocked an eyebrow. _Ah, ah, ah. I'm not telling. You'll like it, though. Alright, let's go shopping!_

The Phantom groaned.

OoOoOoO

Finally, after about three hours of endless NYC sight-seeing and mostly shopping, Celia dragged Erik to a cab.

_Tell him to go to the Majestic Theatre, _Celia told him.

"To the Majestic Theatre, please," Erik told the driver. He just nodded, and entered the stream of traffic.

Erik and Celia didn't communicate on the drive, due to the fact that driver would find it odd listening to a one-sided conversation, and because of Celia's almost reverent stillness.

The cab stopped in front of a large building with lights so bright it was as if it was daytime. Limousines, taxis, and some luxury cars parked in the front. Erik paid the driver, and helped Celia out, and then the bags from the trunk. He then caught sight of the huge marquee on the building; openly advertising 'The Phantom of the Opera'.

"I should have known," he groaned. "Celia…" Erik turned to the silent woman, whose grin was as big as the sign glittering above them.

_We're early, and we're not dressed for the occasion,_ she said simply. _Let's get some of our purchases on so we don't look like hobos. There's a restaurant on the other side of the street. We can change in the bathroom. _She then briskly walked across the road, Erik trailing behind, lugging around the three bags or so of clothing.

When Erik got into the men's room, (Celia had taken one of her bags that contained who-knows-what) he grabbed the first shirt and trousers he could find, went into another horse stall, and changed quickly. He didn't put on his new leather 'loafers', or whatever that robot women told him they were, but kept his black boots.

He glanced at himself in the mirror as he hurried to get out and meet Celia, and paused for a split second.

He looked…unlike himself. Instead of dark and mysterious, his light blue silk shirt and black slacks made him look easy and laidback. And for some odd reason…he liked it.

_Ready to go? _He heard Celia ask as he stepped out of the men's bathroom. He spotted her sitting on a cushioned bench next to the wall. She wore a deep red, sari-like dress with matching sandals. Her hair was in an elegant bun at the nape of her neck.

Approaching her, Erik bowed deeply and offered the crook of his arm for her. Celia gracefully accepted.

_Decided to become a gentleman after all? _She asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"For the night," he smirked.

The two walked out of the restaurant toward the theatre.

OoOoOoO

"Everyone needs to sit in the seats on their ticket! No trading!" Mrs. Harrison barked.

"Have you ever seen this?" Brian asked Tassy as he sat next to her.

"You mean 'have you bought seats for, like, $200?'" she scoffed. "No, I haven't. I've only seen the movie. The only reason I could see this is because of the group reduce."

"Good point."

Just then, Kennedy sat in the seat on the other side of Tassy. She inwardly groaned.

_Why must You be so cruel? _She asked, her eyes gazing upward. Of course she didn't receive an answer.

"Hey Tassy," Kennedy said. Tassy plastered on a weak smile that looked more like a grimace.

"Hey," she said, her jaws threatening to be clenched.

"I like your hair," he said, fingering a golden lock that had strayed from its place at the frame of her face. Tassy's heart leapt to her throat, almost choking her. She forced herself to chill. "You look exactly like Meg Giry."

"Thanks," she replied, sounding just a little strangled. _Oh, dang it, I'd dye it blue if you wanted me to! Just to match those beautiful eyes… _

"Hey, look, there's Celia!" Brian said suddenly, breaking into Tassy's thoughts. She followed his gaze to a few rows back.

There she was. And with her was…who else? Erik. Ken nudged her.

"Erik's with her," he muttered.

"I noticed," she replied, her heart fluttering slightly at his touch. "I'm not surprised, though. I half expected him to be _in_ the play." She laughed a little too harshly.

"You shouldn't be so critical of him, you know," Ken said softly. Tassy's heart suddenly, cruelly, dropped. She mentally kicked herself.

_Great, Tass,_ she scolded herself. _Now he thinks that you're a closed-minded bully. _

Just then, the lights dimmed, and the play began.

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The next day, Wednesday, was tense. It was the first time they were running through the entire program before the actual performance in four weeks.

"Tassy, you're as stiff as a board! What's wrong?" Mrs. Harrison asked when Tassy walked offstage.

"I'm…just a little tense. Nerves, I guess. Trying to remember all the steps," Tassy explained weakly, seemingly struggling not to limp as she went to sit on a plastic chair.

"Alright, then work harder on it," she told her.

"Yes, m'am," Tassy mumbled. When the director turned to usher the people in the next scene, she took off her ballet shoes and massaged her feet, and then stretched to get herself fit for the Angel of Music scene. She cracked her knuckles repeatedly, flexing her fingers.

He watched her intently as she gracefully pranced onstage in her gold and black practice leotard. Why didn't anyone else notice the passion, and pain, in her dancing? Yes, there was grace, but there was also a dark, untamed beauty, like watching a panther leap from tree to tree in a dark jungle.

He had seen the movie Phantom of the Opera, and although she looked like Meg Giry, her dancing and personality was the complete opposite of the dainty, innocent blonde in the film. Why did Tassy have to try to be someone she's not?

"Hey, DJ! Start the music!" someone barked.

"Sorry!" he called as he went back to the stage controls.

As he heard Tassy's natural, clear, _forcefully_ gentle voice ring out the first verse, then Kari's sweet, trained voice answer, he knew who the better singer was by far. He had to admit, though, that Kari could sing higher and better then she did before she started taking lessons. But Tassy was a natural-born soprano. She deserved the spot as Christine.

Too bad Tassy couldn't see that there _was_ someone who could see…and perhaps _love_ her for what she really was.

OoOoOoO

Good God, she looked exactly like Antoinette's annoying, little ballet rat.

That was Erik's first thought when he saw Tassy walk in with her head held high and shining gold hair tied back into a loose ponytail. But he decided to pretend not to take notice. Obviously she did this just to get his attention. How juvenile.

Kennedy and Kari closely followed Tassy, talking about the scene 'Music of the Night'.

Erik stood up from his usual place at his organ to greet them, as he usually did.

"Have we all practiced?" he asked. All three nodded. "I watched your rehearsal this afternoon. Very good. Kari, you certainly improved. I'll make a star out of you yet." Kari beamed at the Phantom's rare praise. "And Kennedy…you have already taken the stage completely." Ken also gave a smile, although shy. Erik then turned to the fierce-eyed Tassy. "Miss Williams, you danced very well, but you are still sounding too harsh in the Angel of Music scene. I had thought that your lessons helped correct that." Tassy's pompous stature fell to pieces at the comment. She glared angrily, but kept her voice cool.

"I'll try harder to be more gentle…sir," she said. She then looked him up and down "And may I applaud your costume change…it suites you."

It was true. He was wearing one of the new outfits that Celia had bought for him; a deep red satin button-up and a pair of dark jeans. He did look rather dashing.

"Thank you," he replied simply. "Now…" He looked at Ken and Kari. "You two can start our lesson by playing out your part in 'Point of No Return'. You need to work on your acting. And then Kari and Tassy can work on the 'Angel of Music' scene. Tassy needs to polish up her singing."

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Tassy knew that she worked her hardest, but obviously it wasn't good enough. What's the point of being taught if her teacher won't praise her? It seemed that all men were the same in her eyes: She isn't worthy if she doesn't please them. Her father was the same way with her and her mother. Good riddance. At least Kennedy wasn't that way. He was the only guy who appreciated music like she did, anyway. But, of course, he didn't really notice her either.

She was like a ghost. In her house and anywhere else. Nobody notices her, and no one ever will.

_No,_ she shook her head. _Suicidal thoughts there. Life wasn't that bad. People_ do_ notice me.Ken did when I dyed my hair. Maybeit opened up a new part in him that can see me...for me._

Couldn't get worse, anyway. At least she still had the chance to win over Ken's heart. Hopefully.

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**Author's Note: **Again, sorry for the late update!

Review pwease!


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